


Amidst the Stasis

by aria_vitali



Series: FFXIV Writing Prompts [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurotine Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Mage Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Comrades in Arms, Confrontations, Cooking Lessons, Dom/sub Undertones, Dragoon Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Drink Spiking, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hope, Hopeful Ending, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Laughter, Letters, Light Angst, Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Porn with Feelings, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protectiveness, Rebirth, Romance, Second Chances, Self-Doubt, Song: Ikanaide | Don't Go, Superstition, Teaching, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 32,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aria_vitali/pseuds/aria_vitali
Summary: A collection of one-shots based on one word prompts from gatheredfates' 30 day WoL writing challenges and sea-wolf-coast-to-coast FFXIV Writing Challenge from Tumblr.June 2020: Chapters 1-16 (gatheredfates)August 2020: Chapters 17-30 (gatheredfates)September 2020: Chapters 31-37 (sea-wolf-coast-to-coast)IMPORTANT NOTE:Major 5.3 Shadowbringers spoilers inchapter 27-30; read at your own risk
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Reader, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: FFXIV Writing Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616035
Comments: 14
Kudos: 104





	1. Healing (Estinien & WoL)

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the pieces will be un-canon for the most part; I'm writing them just based on chars and relationships I thought suit the prompt the most in my opinion :)
> 
> edit: spoilers for Shadowbringer expansion patches will be noted at the beginning of the chapter where necessary.

A small Hyuran woman sat at the edge of a stone pillar, one leg perched up so that she may wrap her arms around it. Her lance lay on the stonework behind her within arm’s reach while she peered down towards blessed Ishgard as gentle snowflakes danced to and fro in the air. In the distance, she could hear music and laughter, as well as the sounds of pounding hammers and shouts from artisans and crafters alike.

Yet, all she could pay attention to was the gentle caress of the winter breeze against her skin.

“Brooding does not suit you, Aria,” a voice called out to her.

The woman hardly blinked as she peered over her shoulder towards the one that called to her. On the small ledge that she found purchase in, an Elezen dragoon of snow white hair stepped towards her. She didn’t answer him verbally, but acknowledged his presence with a slight nod of her head before turning back to where she was staring off towards from the beginning. Estinien, not at all affronted by it, motioned to sit beside her.

“What is on your mind?” the man asked in a gruff voice, trying his damndest to be ‘nice’ for a change.

Aria lifted her shoulders in a shrug, her auburn hair tinged in crimson cascading along her torso with the movement.

“I am _exhausted_ , Est,” she answered in a small voice.

Estinien huffed and shifted in his seat. He adjusted his lance, Nidhogg, alongside hers. He found it ironic how she renamed Areadbhar Lux - the Anima weapon she painstakingly gathered materials to have forged - with the same notion as he: _Bahamut_. Two wyrms of vengeance, two beings that had destroyed all in their path - wielded by the two Azure Dragoons of Ishgard.

Or, at least, those that _used_ to bear the title.

“I can only imagine,” Estinien responded. “Wyrms are enough for me. I would not dare imagine how you are managing it all.”

From the corner of his eye, Estinien saw the way Aria had flinched where she sat and he immediately knew that his choice of words were disastrously poor. He ruffled the hair at the back of his head, letting out a groan of irritation at himself before he sighed.

“I … apologize,” he muttered in a pained tone, as if it damaged his pride to say. “I did not mean to-”

“I know,” Aria interrupted.

She withdrew her body further to herself, curling up to a ball by hugging both her knees as they both sat on the ledge. They sat like this in silence, allowing the noise of the city below them to fall into the back of their minds. Despite the quiet, there were a million words being sung from their hearts, the blood of the dragon that course through their veins speaking true what could not be said aloud.

So, ignoring the awkwardness of the notion, Estinien reached out and wrapped an arm around the woman’s shoulders to pull her closer. The notion startled Aria enough that it got her to peek up towards him and he could only scowl and look away with pink-dusted cheeks.

“Do not hide your tears,” the man bit out. “Feel it, bathe in it and then let it go.”

Aria blinked and her eyes drooped, her gaze darting away ever so slightly.

“I thought you were not one to deal with mewling.”

Estinien was quiet for a breath, contemplating how to respond to her comment before shrugging to himself.

“For the comrade that saved my life when I saw it forfeit, that stood by Ishgard when it was in turmoil and, above all, my … _friend_ … that I view as a sibling, this is nothing.”

Aria’s amethyst eyes widened and she could only gawk at her brother-in-arms with complete shock. The sight of her staring made Estinien’s scowl deeper and he pulled her towards him further so that she was pressed against his figure; so that she wouldn’t see the shade of red on the apple of his cheeks.

It took a moment, but Aria allowed herself to relax and lean against the man’s figure. While she listened to his heartbeats, she realized that tears began streaking down her cheeks. The moment it registered that she was crying, the dam had broken and she allowed it to flood, her whimpers turning into sobs that Estinien swore the other knights dragoon would be able to sense from afar through her song.

“I...miss them…” she managed to choke out between her mewling.

Estinien stiffened and nodded.

“Aye, as it should. They were good comrades.”

Aria hummed and nodded. He would never admit to her that he missed them just the same aloud, but he knew that she was already aware of it. After all, he had named the armor that Hrasvaelgr donned to him after the woman that sacrificed herself to atone for her sins. In turn, he was aware that the woman carries around a kite shield bearing the Fortemps emblem in memory of the man that saved her life.

They will go about their healing one way or another. Tomorrow is a new dawn that waits for no one. Right here, right now, they have each other in the Coerthan climes, two veterans of war with scars to bear - seen and unseen, voiced and unvoiced, on their body and in their hearts.

For now, they will allow themselves this vulnerability not as soldiers, but as companions.


	2. Omen (Aymeric/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried a little something new here. I hope you like it!

A butterfly flew in today,  
And landed atop the window sill;  
As strange it was, I questioned it,  
Questioned if it was a sign marking Her will.

I know I should learn to relax a tad,  
In this rare moment of reprieve;  
Because the weary don’t get to rest,  
Especially ones that wear their heart clear on their sleeve.

But then, my mind, it wandered to  
A man clad in deep blue  
In a land of harsh snow and ice,  
Though, it was hardly anything new.

Then, I saw the creature’s wings,  
Its color mirroring my thoughts;  
I knew then it may have been  
His urge manifest that he has fought.

So with a smile, I gathered my things  
As little there was to collect  
And set off to visit the one  
Whose heart, I vowed, I would protect.


	3. Hello (Haurchefant/WoL)

Haurchefant always had elaborate ways of greeting her. A hug with a spin, a cup of hot cocoa, an announcement of her arrival that echoed throughout all of Camp Dragonhead - Aria had seen it all.

That was, she _thought_ she did.

Her visits to the camp were sporadic and she would often send a letter ahead of time to let the presiding lord know. Yet, this time she wanted to surprise him and if he wasn’t around, she would wait until he was. Luckily, she didn’t need to.

She crept in through the front doors and saw that the silver-haired man was focusing intensely on a report in front of him. Corentiaux noticed her and was about to step forward to welcome her, but when Aria lifted a finger to press against her lips, he merely gave a knowing grin and kept still.

Aria was silent, the sound of her movement like flowing water in a vast forest with no one to hear it. Corentiaux was amused as he spectated, an accomplice to his lord’s failure to remain attentive, as she hunted her prey. Silently and with purpose.

Yet, when she knew she was approaching Haurchefant’s line of sight, she would be caught. A gear turned a tick within her mind and, having noticed the daggers sheathed at her side, Corentiaux saw her smirk before she disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Haurchefant noticed this and lifted his head from the report.

“Did I just...Was there anything just there, Corentiaux?”

The knight smiled. “Nothing of import, my lord.”

Haurchefant hummed, rubbing the back of his head for a brief moment of confusion before he returned to reading his report. Corentiaux wanted to laugh, he really did, but he knew that it would end the prank. He couldn’t see Aria, but he somehow knew she was getting closer.

Closer.

_Closer._

Suddenly, the Warrior of Light revealed herself in another cloud as she pounced towards Haurchefant with a playful cry. Haurchefant, in turn, allowed his soldierly instincts to take over. He grabbed Aria by her wrist and shoulders as he jumped to his feet, throwing the small Hyuran woman onto his desk and pinning her down. The notion caused Aria to blink in a daze while the lord came to his senses and the silence shared between the two was _too much_ for Corentiaux and he burst into laughter, falling to his knees.

“By the Fury- Pray tell why, my friend?!” the lord exclaimed.

Aria blinked sheepishly, her cheeks flushing a bright shade of red.

“Umm... hi?” she answered in a tiny squeak.

Haurchefant stared at her as if she had gone mad, but then sighed and released her with a helpless smile. As he watched the woman sit up, he reached out to brush his hands across her wrists and cheeks affectionately.

“Mine apologies, Aria, but you cannot fault me reacting to such a startle!”

Aria shook her head, squirming where she sat.

“N-No, ‘tis not...your fault…”

Haurchefant eyed the woman questioningly, noticing the way she was shifting and pointedly avoiding his gaze. He lifted her chin up, urging her to look at him and she stifled a gasp, obeying the silent command and she licked her lips. The lord saw the way her eyes marked desire, her irises merely slender rings resulting from her blown pupils.

“Oh, I understand,” Haurchefant muttered to her in a sultry purr. “I understand completely.”

Aria’s blush darkened two shades as she released a startled yelp when Haurchefant lifted her into the air and threw her over his shoulder. She flailed her arms as he manhandled her and shouted incoherently while the lord turned to Corentiaux.

“Inform anyone that comes in search of me that I am entertaining a guest. After all, it would not do for a renowned adventurer such as the Warrior of Light to remain so chilled after trudging through the Coerthan snow!”

With understanding, Corentiaux nodded and paid no attention to the shouts from the woman and the laughter from his lord. From the way they both appeared, he doubted he would see either of them returning for a few bells. He sighed.

Indeed, Haurchefant has interesting ways of saying ‘hello.’


	4. Laugh (Aymeric, Estinien & WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired from both SE's FFXIV "Stay at Home" series ft. Estinien AND Polygon's recent article about how the grumpy jumpy FINALLY TAKES A BATH GUYS! ASDFGHJKL;

Aria couldn’t contain herself. It was too much. Far too much.

She was surprised when Estinien decided to drop by the Borel manor to visit both her and Aymeric. So much so that she couldn’t suppress the urge the moment he saw his face. Even the lord commander had to cover his mouth and turn away from his dear friend - though it was painfully obvious that he was about to lose his mind, as well.

“What … are you doing?” Estinien questioned warily, both annoyed that they were brought to such an irritating state and fearful of what might have brought it up.

“‘ _What_ ’?” Aria managed to choke out between her wheezes. “Estinien Wyrmblood, what in Halone's good graces do you mean ‘ _what_ ’? Have you _seen_ what has been going around about you?”

Estinien’s blood ran cold. “I...I do not know-”

More than eager to let her brother-in-arms know, she snatched a slip of paper from the top of Aymeric’s desk and pranced towards the retired Azure Dragoon. However, rather than give it to him, she presented the contents of the parchment for the man’s ~~in~~ convenience. Estinien analyzed the contents and his heart dropped to his stomach.

“ _Fury, take me_ ,” he growled after a gasp.

The dragoon snatched the page from the woman’s hands and brought it close to his face. He blinked quickly, trying to wake himself up if it was simply a dream. He saw the woman try to hold in her mirth as he read and _re_ read the title at the top of the paper.

“‘ _Notoriously dirty dragoon finally seen bathing_ ’,” he read the title aloud. “But this-”

Aria snorted, taking in a deep breath before she spoke.

“H-How did a-anyone manage to get a ph-photo of you taken like th-that?”

“I... Your secretary…” The pieces immediately fell into place in Estinien’s mind. “That spy of a woman…!”

Aria’s control was being sorely tested and she was inhaling heavy breaths, trying to steady the shaking air being exhaled. On the other hand, Aymeric managed to right himself more smoothly than his counterpart as she collapsed into his arms.

“I see you have become more...hygienic, my friend,” he commented. “Shall we celebrate with a drink?”

  
All that could be heard after a moment of silence was Aria’s body falling to the floor and her subsequent howls of frivolity. 


	5. Unspoken (Fray, Aymeric/WoL)

There is a special place in Aria’s heart that is occupied by a fragment that cannot be a hero. The side of her that screams bloody murder and greed, that weeps at her losses and begs for forgiveness at every sin she has committed. She’s had to confront this shard many times before, but predominantly when it ate her aether amidst her grief at the death of a friend.

This fragment is always watching. Watching after her and watching out for her. It has been with her on her unending journey, among the sea of people in her countless adventures. It knows everything about her, even the things that she doesn’t wish to accept; the things she’s too afraid to admit.

That is why, when she sits in the back alley behind the Forgotten Knight within the Brume, it takes matters into its own hands.

Aria had been drinking. Much more than usual. Her fragment knows that it’s because she’s experiencing a halt in her schedule, that now she has time to rest, she cannot help but think. Amidst her thoughts, the sadness crept in and amidst the sadness, the darker desire to find ways to harm. To find the means to an end. It has led her to become so lost in her despair that she had passed out. Here.

With a blizzard on its way.

Darkened aether condenses at her feet despite her unconscious form. It tumbles and churns within itself, borrowing some of her essence to form a physical shape. Aria’s fragment manifests as a simulacrum of a knight that once was, a ghost she created for herself in her desperation to have a mentor, a teacher, during her most emotionally charged life.

Through obsidian and dark blue armor does her fragment huff at her despondent form before kneeling down and propping her on its back. Soon enough, she was being carried across the Brume towards the Congregation, for her fragment only wants the best for her. It loves her and only her so much that it will take her to the person that she needs even if it’s not what she wishes. 

Not that Aria was in the position to complain at this moment. Fortunately for her, many of the citizens were retiring for the evening.

Her fragment kicked open the doors to the Congregation of Knights Most Holy, its golden eyes looking highly unrepentant as an array of gazes darted and glared towards him. In particular was a Hyuran paladin, a former Garlean that had abandoned her ties to serve a new lord in this new land. But she wasn’t the one it was looking for.

Rather, it was the one beside her. The Elezen man of raven hair and ice blue eyes, who wore armor the color of the oceans and gold. The one Aria has entered relations with. The one person she felt she cannot burden despite his pleas for her to be open with him.

Aymeric de Borel, lord commander of Ishgard.

When the man’s eyes wandered to her sleeping figure, his expression contorted to one of concern as he rushed towards her and barked orders for bedchambers to be prepared in the medical ward. The fragment scowled at this and even more so when he attempted to take Aria away from it.

“Who are you and what happened?” Aymeric demanded.

Aria’s fragment rolled its eyes shamelessly before motioning towards the elevator leading up the building. Aymeric was following closely with Lucia taking over whatever duties he was attending prior to its entrance.

“Bugger’s drunk,” the fragment answered. “Fell asleep outside in the Brume, little shite.”

Aymeric seemed affronted by the fragment’s biting tone and less-than-refined speech, but he dared not utter a word. After all, he appreciated it coming to aid Aria in her time of need, unaware that the one helping her is none other than herself. The fragment snorted at the thought, finding it quite ironic.

So much so that it found it amusing to drop her unceremoniously from its back on the bedding with lack of grace. The fragment was mildly entertained with how horrified Aymeric was at the sight of it.

“They are a patient!” he chided, almost shoving the fragment away in a protective bout.

The fragment shrugged. “Pretending to care when you turned a blind eye? That’s soft.”

Aymeric’s head snapped towards your fragment. “How dare you-“

“Get your sod arse off your high horse, winter boy,” the fragment hissed. “Don’t pretend to be coy. If you had a specter of understanding, you would’ve seen just how much she was hurting.”

Aymeric frowned, his eyes growing narrow as he watched your fragment with dangerous eyes. The fragment leveled his glare with its own.

“And who are you to assume that you know everything that she is?” the lord commander tried.

The fragment cackled, unbelieving of what it was hearing. He truly had know idea and it almost made your fragment pity the man.

“In the deepest abyss, there is a cry,” it answers. “One I hear too bloody well. Because there is nowhere else I would rather go and no one I love more than them.”

The fragment steps forward to close the gap between it and the lord commander and it finds purchase in grabbing Aymeric by his collar to bring him down.

“On their blackest night, where will you be? Will you run away like all the others or stand with her unto death?”

The fragment saw Aymeric furrowed his brows, but when he was about to retort, they both heard the sound of Aria’s stirring in the form of a pained groan. It caused the shard to release the man as he turned and knelt by his lover’s bedside, pressing a hand gently against her cheek.

“Where…” Aria whispered weakly.

“Ia,” Aymeric called to her. “Ia, are you alright?”

Aymeric saw the way Aria’s eyes became searching, wandering across the sights before her before she looked over his shoulder, towards the one standing behind.

“...Fray?” she muttered.

A brush of wind danced across both Aria and Aymeric’s figures and when the lord commander peered over his shoulder to take another look at this ‘Fray’, he found that he had disappeared, one more gentle breeze encapsulating them both akin to a protective shield.

“Who was that man?” Aymeric asked with a frown.

Aria inclined her head, her eyes drooping. “Fray...is someone important...and knows me better than I know myself…”

A brief silence permeated the building warmth and left a cold sensation buzzing through his blood. In an instant, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her in to press her figure tight against his.

“I...apologize for not noticing how much you are hurting.”

Aria’s eyes widened ever so slightly before she smiled softly and took him into her embrace.

“Did Fray say something to you?”

Aymeric hummed and pressed her tighter against his frame. Aria sighed and rubbed his back as soothingly as she could. Somewhere in her mind, she whispered a silent ‘thank you’.

In return, there was a quiet, ‘you’re welcome’.


	6. Letter (WoL)

_I was never sure why. Why it had to end up the way it was._

_They were the best, did you know? The time we spent together, the adventures that we had and the hope that we created for the future._

_Of course, there were fights, but in the end, we always made up._

_But when you smiled as you had to say goodbye, it felt so lonely._

_Somewhere, deep within my soul, I prayed that we would meet each other again - somewhere, somehow. In another time, in another place._

_And, somewhere in the furthest part of my mind, I thought I heard you say ‘thank you.’_

_You know … I will never forget you._

_I … I feel very lonely. But, at the same time, there are people that make my days just a bit brighter._

_So, you do not have to worry about me, my old friend._

_My first true love._

_Though there is nothing I can do now, if there is a time that we are reborn…_

_… I hope that you will play with me again._

_\- Your old friend, Aria_


	7. Chocolate (Emmanellain, Edmont & WoL)

“Ah! Hurry and stir it, Emmanellain, or it will be too thick!”

Lord Edmont froze as he was passing by the kitchen in the hall on the way to the den to have his afternoon tea. It was a pleasant surprise, along with an unfamiliar sight, as he peeked through the doors to find both his youngest and the Warrior of Light together in front of the stove, an array of ingredients splayed out across the counters. From the look of it, the young Hyuran woman was attempting to teach Emmanellain how to cook, a feat that not even he knew could be possible.

“But do I really have to constantly do this, old girl?” Emmanellain scowled with a pout forewarning of future whining.

Aria turned towards him and stepped into clearer view. The count could see her cradling a bowl and spatula in her hands as she was mixing some sort of cream together, her efforts fruitful as it was peaking as gently as a cloud. Her hair was tied into a high ponytail and her eyes sparkled against the sunlight piercing through the windows as she gave a chiding look.

“Of course! Or would you care to present a lady with chocolate that is not as smooth as silk?”

Emmanellain recoiled at the visual ‘what-if’ the woman presented to her as Aria took her spatula and used it to point at the young lordling in accusation. He jerked away from the cooking utensil and straightened his back to stir the small pot diligently, performing the task in earnest. The sight of it earned an approving hum from the woman and as she shifted her posture towards the counter to return back to her work, she noticed the count through the crack of the door.

“Ah, Lord Edmont!” she exclaimed, causing Emmanellain to jump where he was standing.

The count chuckled and pushed the doors inward, openly revealing himself to the two as he looked on with clear interest and fondness.

“Simply ‘Edmont’ is fine, my dear. Now, what do we have here?”

Aria’s eyes darted towards the youngest Fortemps son and he almost shrank away, though he was still attending to the task she gave him. She allowed a small giggle to escape her lips.

“I am teaching Emmanellain the way of the culinarian,” she explained. “After all, I cannot bear to allow the young master to be _completely_ hopeless, now can I?”

Emmanellain turned towards her and released an undignified cry of protest. He raised his arms to the air, along with the whisk he was using to stir the contents of the pot, and Aria simply reached out to drop her spatula in favor of a rolanberry. When the lordling turned towards her, she swiftly placed the treat between his parting lips to silence him with a smile.

“Less talk, more work!” she exclaimed easily.

Lord Edmont’s eyes widened in surprise, but he couldn’t repress the chuckles rumbling in his chest at the sight of it. How she managed to convince the lad of doing earnest work was beyond him, but there was one thing that was clear:

Neither of them commented that they both had splotches of sweet confections smeared across their cheeks.


	8. Confrontation (WoL, Ryne et al.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shadowbringers spoilers up to 5.2. Highly recommend doing Eden's Verse before reading!

Aria’s eyes were wide at the question. She knew that it would come up; after all, restoring the Empty through the method of channeling elements via her memory of primals … there was no avoiding it. It wasn’t like there was another primal monopolizing eternal ice that she could conjure up.

Yet, when Ryne asked what Shiva was like, Aria couldn’t help but go dizzy at the thought.

She knew that Thancred was watching her carefully. Knew that Urianger was growing concerned with the way her face had contorted. Memories of a northern frontier, of an amphitheatre of cold blue. Of a woman with long silken hair and the taste of her stew in the sacred land of the dragons.

Aria’s thoughts began to wander. Wander to the night in which the heretics breached the gates and stormed Foundation. She remembered returning with her dear friends only to come across another - a knight that allowed her the safety and warmth of his home and hearth.

Her two dear friends. Her two greatest losses.

At this, Aria couldn’t hold back the sadness flowing from her eyes. While still wide, she couldn’t bear but look away from the small girl with strawberry blonde hair. Couldn’t bear but allow herself to fully bathe in the emotions that thrusted themselves before her - even though she had done much and more to try to come to terms with the fact.

That is why, when Thancred calls out her name with such a forlorn tone, the gates to all her control snapped open and she had fallen to her knees in such weakness. All but Gaia had rushed towards the warrior to ensure that she was alright, but none of them were insensitive to her state of mind. They knew what it was like to lose and they hadn’t doubted the emotion behind her words.

“I … do not know what Shiva was like,” Aria answered, her lips trembling as she tried her damnedest to form coherent sentences. “I do not know the woman that captured Hrasvaelgr’s heart more than a millennia ago.”

Thancred furrowed his brows. “Aria, that’s not what she-”

“I know!’ the woman exclaimed with far more derangement that he had ever seen in her. “I know that! And I know that I cannot allow such things to control me! I know what I said to you, to Ryne, and Twelve forfend that Hades calls me a hypocrite!”

This surprises the company enough to kill any retort or words of encouragement before it passes their lips. Instead, they allow the warrior to spill her passions long locked within her heart into the open, knowing that this was a trial she needed to face on its own.

“I … do not know what Shiva was like,” Aria tried again. “Whenever I think of Shiva … I remember the woman looking for forgiveness for her sins. Of the man that gave his everything for my sake when everyone thought he was simply waxing lyrical. They were both beautiful, heroic and more the embodiment of hope than I will ever be.”

Ryne’s expression fell at the sight of her role model acting in such a way and she knew she couldn’t leave it like this. There had to be something that she could do and she had an idea of what, but first, she needed to give back to the woman that had given so much of herself to save her and the entire world.

So, the small girl took her delicate hands and reached out for Aria’s. It captured the hero’s attention and soon, amethyst eyes met with crystal blue and the two chosen by the Light levelled their gazes with one another. The young girl offered her a small smile and Aria could feel warmth emanating from a child with one of the largest hearts she had ever seen.

“I can’t ever hope to know how much you’re hurting,” Ryne spoke with such kindness that reminded the Scions of their previous Antecedent. “But I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone. So, even though this is hard for you, I want to face it with you. Together.”

Aria’s eyes widened at Ryne’s resolution and the sight of it broke her away from the pit of despair she was beginning to spiral into. Her gaze wandered towards Urianger, to Thancred, and she found they they, too, were smiling at her with such reassurances that made her feel _so full_ and not at all as lonely as she thought she would be.

With this, the hero sniffled and smiled, pulling Ryne into a gentle hug while she patted her head. The child gasped and stiffened within the embrace, but returned it all the same, wondering if such a sensation was what a sister’s love was like - if not a mother’s.

“Thank you, Ryne, for reminding me,” Aria whispered.

Ryne smiled. “Y-You’re welcome.”

Facing such challenges was hard. Aria, of all people, knew this. Harder yet was to ask for help when you’re so used to the world turning to you for your support. Sometimes, reminders of the obvious are welcome and needed; admonition that you’re not alone.

Then all you need to do is take their hand.


	9. Drink (Alphinaud, Aymeric/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning beforehand for those that may be sensitive to it - reference to drink spiking ahead. Nothing is elaborated; simply a short character exploration of how I see Aymeric reacting to such a thing happening to the WoL.

Aymeric was a benevolent leader. He allows a fair trial when someone is wronged, passes praises and compliments where deserved and is, above all, a man with the qualities that any just commander should have when managing an entire nation.

No one in Ishgard voiced complaints when they discovered the nature of his relations with the Warrior of Light. It was quite a convenience to learn that she was Ishgardian by blood, an offspring of a middle-ranked noble house renowned for their abilities in the arcane. It allowed for them to embrace her existence as smoothly as it could possibly go.

However, this was _definitely_ crossing the line.

“Lord Aymeric,” Lucia called out from the side.

Aymeric peered over his shoulder to find the first commander having entered the bedchambers. The woman politely saluted the man before approaching his side, just as the man shifted his attention back to the small figure lying on the bed. Alphinaud was standing opposite to him closest to the head of the bed, his grimoire opened in his hand as he weaved aetherial magicks to the figure lying asleep.

Weaving healing light into Aria’s body.

“Have you apprehended them, Lucia?” Aymeric asked, fighting to level his voice as close to neutral as he possibly could.

“Yes, my lord,” Lucia answered. “Ser Handeloup and I have personally seen to them as they were thrown behind bars.”

“Good … Good.” Aymeric glanced towards Alphinaud just as his light disseminated and the young man returned his weapon to his waist. “How is she, Master Alphinaud?”

The lord commander saw the frown that was on the small Elezen’s face and didn’t miss the way he had clenched his gloved hands into fists.

“I have cleansed her of whatever foreign substance had been spiked into her drink. However…”

Aymeric’s eyes widened when he saw crystal tears amidst Aria’s sleep, a small whimper escaping from the back of her throat. At the same time, her lips parted and formed whispers that could barely be heard. Just barely.

“I … sorry …”

The lord commander stretched his arm out to brush the back of his fingers against Aria’s cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen. The sight of it causing the fellow Scion to shake with quiet indignation, memories of a time long, long ago flooding in like a nightmare - one that they knew she must be experiencing at this exact moment.

“Aria was the most devastated, did you know?” Alphinaud mused, quiet but loud enough for the other two to hear. It gave cause for Aymeric to glance towards him. “She refused to eat anything for days, much less drink. If it was not for her brother cooking for her right before her eyes, we would have had a much harder time…”

“The scar runs deep, as one would put it,” Lucia commented as she inclined her head.

A series of knocks echoed into the room.

“Ser Lucia, the guardians of the noble sons have arrived,” the voice called out from the other side. "They wish to petition against the claim and fight for innocence in a trial by combat."

“I will personally attend to them,” Aymeric answered before Lucia could.

“S-Ser Aymeric, my deepest apologies! I will inform the guards of your participation!”

When a series of heavy footsteps moved away from the door, Alphinaud took the chance to look towards the lord commander, who had reached out to brush a lock of stray hair from Aria’s face before standing to his feet.

“Are you certain of this, Ser Aymeric?” Alphinaud asked.

Aymeric allowed himself to scowl, his eyes as icy as the blue sparkling against the sunlight.

“More than, Master Alphinaud. Not only as the lord speaker of Ishgard, but also the one that has the privilege to court her. Moreover…”

Lucia glanced towards the lord commander and inclined her head while Alphinaud couldn’t help but sympathize with the man.

“...Anyone would be angered at the sight of their love in pain.”

With that, Aymeric turned towards the door, anger building within his breast and half a mind filled with the desire to put these fools in their place.


	10. Keep (Estinien/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time I imagined my WoL with Estinien. I actually quite like how this turned out :)

“Hmm … that does not feel quite right. Rather, ‘tis quite _odd_ …”

Estinien shifted from where he was lying on the verdant earth underneath the shade of a grand tree within the Forelands. The moment that his eyes opened, his gaze darted in search of the source of the voice and found the Warrior of Light staring at the pages of a small journal intensely, a quill in her other hand.

“Your brows are wrinkled,” Estinien jested with the faintest hint of a smile as he parted his lips wide to yawn.

His voice caused the woman’s train of thought to halt as she glanced towards the man. The sight of him caused her to return his look with a soft smile, lowering her hands to place them on her lap.

“Ah, did I wake you? My apologies, Est.”

Estinien waved her concern away. “Think nothing of it. So? What is troubling you?”

“Ah, that?”

Aria’s pleasant expression tensed to focus as she lifted her journal upwards just a tad to allow for lighter effort in reading the script.

“I have been having some trouble with certain techniques, to be honest. In particular, my sword skills…”

Estinien raised a brow in her direction and she became sheepish under the scrutiny, shifting shyly within herself as a result.

“...Do I have to?” she asked.

Estinien shrugged. “I would not force you and I make no claim to know a thing regarding the ways of … what is it called again?”

“The _samurai_ , Estinien,” she answered with mild reproach.

Estinien huffed. “Aye, that.”

Aria sighed and shook her head. Allowing herself a short respite, she exhaled a deep breath and leaned her figure against the tree trunk behind her. Her head lifted so she could gaze up towards the sapphire skies and create imaginings within her mind of what shapes the snowy clouds could be making in the heavens above. It was enough to bring her peace and she smiled at its sensation.

“What of your master?” Estinien asked, rolling over so that he could lie on his side.

Aria flinched at the mention of it and it sparked curiosity in the Elezen. Yet, with the way that her eyes darkened, he knew he overstepped his boundaries. Further was his knowledge that it was too late to take it back.

“He … passed away,” Aria answered in a forlorn tone. “Of a sickness. Before he passed, he wished for someone to inherit his legacy and thus did he give me the secrets of his techniques.”

“I fail to see the issue here,” Estinien answered, eyes lazily wandering in the direction Aria was staring.

Aria inclined her head, though the direction of her gaze remained still.

“Simply … I am at a standstill, that is all.” Aria lifted one of her hands, its fingers abandoned of the journal and leaving it on her lap as the nimble limbs reached out in a feigned attempt to touch the fluff in the sky. “I am … I feel as if I am so close, Est. To a new skill. To a new means. And yet…”

“And yet, you hesitate,” the man completed her sentence.

Aria chuckled softly at that. “Mayhap I am.”

“So why not ask that Doman king for some training?” Estinien asked with another one of his classic shrugs. “Surely he would be more than eager to teach you.”

Aria frowned and withdrew into herself, lifting her legs up to her chest abruptly so she may wrap her arms around her knees and ignoring the fact that it caused her belongings to fall onto the emerald earth.

“Ridiculous! Lord Hien is already busy trying to restore his birthright to its former glory. I could not possibly impose on him!”

The dragoon scowled at the woman’s pout and released a heavy sigh.

“I find that rather hard to believe. With the way he stares at you, one would assume him nothing more than a lovestruck pup in heat.”

Aria couldn’t help but release a peal of laughter at the comment and Estinien grinned at the sound of it. He always loved hearing her giggles. He loved seeing her smile and Fury take the poor bastard that decides to take that away from her.

“Aww, is someone jealous?” Aria teased. "Mayhap he is not the only _swooning maiden_ among the numbers?"

Estinien scoffed. “‘Tis not I, sorry to disappoint.”

The man rolled over to his other side, presenting his back towards the woman in an attempt to hide his pink-dusted cheeks. He prayed to Halone his ears were not the same with the way he felt burning across the delicate tips. Surely, he has grown soft after spending so much time with the Warrior of Light and allowing himself the mercy of falling for her. Witch of a woman.

Then, he felt her arm wrapping around his waist and any hint of irritation that he may have been feeling melted away like snow to water on a brand new spring day. So, he rolled over towards her once more, lying on his back and reaching out to collect her small figure into his own embrace. More than eager to reciprocate, she allowed herself to be hoarded against his strong build as she rested her head against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothed her own and calmed her breaths. With the way the sun’s rays were kissing her cheeks, she was sure sleep would come for her within the next few minutes.

“Rest for a while,” Estinien urged as he threaded his fingers along her chocolate-colored locks. “I will be here when you awake.”

Aria chuckled without much effort as she slowly closed her eyes. “Will you allow me the comfort of your body to rest my weary head?”

Estinien snorted at that. “I would comfort you in other ways, but ‘tis not what you need right now. Aye, you may use mine chest as a pillow, from now until you no longer need me.”

“Silly man…” Aria retorted in her now half-sleep state. “...I would never…”

Estinien remained quiet until he could hear nothing from her but her rhythmic breathing, felt nothing but the steady beat of her heart. Careful not to awaken her, he pulled her closer against him both greedily and protectively - an arm around her waist and another gently placed at the back of her head. He allowed himself the pleasure of pressing his lips against her forehead, full of fondness and wonder; for how is it that she could stave off his rage and quell his desire to burn, maim and kill so easily after his possession by the dark wyrm?

“...’Tis the point,” he murmured after a noncommittal hum at the woman.

Memories flooded in then. Of the day he had met her when he was acting as a brat and running away with the Eye. Of when he encountered her again at Aymeric’s behest in the Intercessory at Camp Dragonhead. Of the time they both traveled with Iceheart to council with the great Hraesvalgr in Zenith. Of all the times after. The thought of all made his embrace tighter, his desire to protect igniting into desperation.

“Please...always need me…” he whispered, not expecting anything in return.

“Always…” Aria muttered in her sleep.

The response caused Estinien to soften his hold in slight surprise. He peered down at the Hyur’s face, wondering if she was actually asleep. He waited a few moments to pass and with no answer, he allowed himself to smile. Allowed himself to not look a gift horse in its mouth. Allowed himself to bathe like a preening cat in the knowledge that she was _his_.

  
Most of all, allowed himself the mercy of being in love.


	11. Gods (Crystal Exarch & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or alternative writing prompt, 'pretending'.
> 
> [Warning: Shadowbringer spoilers ahead]

When the Crystal Exarch heard that their precious Warrior of Darkness had been pointedly missing as of late, he made it his own responsibility to search for her. He attempted to scry for her in his mirror, but there was an interference - something that was preventing him from pinpointing her exact location. Yet, knowing her habits, it was quite easy to hone in on the places she would be.

He found her sitting on the ledge atop a watchtower. According to a few citizens, it was the selfsame tower that she had found solace in when she was almost consumed by the Light. The place that she had sought refuge in the early bells of her awakening following her battle with Vauthry.

Aria was gazing upon the sunset sky. The chocolate locks of her hair swayed along the breeze and she brushed whichever strands had fallen over her face behind her ear. She had a small, yet forlorn, smile plastered on her face and her amethyst eyes were glazed with restrained tears. The Exarch never liked seeing her like this - not when he was still the boyish G’raha Tia when they were exploring the Crystal Tower and definitely not now. So, he heaved a breath, willing courage into his breast, and stepped forward.

“There you are, friend,” he called out to her, ensuring his footsteps were audible as he approached so as not to startle her. “Many people are worried that something had gone amiss. Pray tell - is everything alright?”

Aria peered over her shoulder, watching silently as the man advanced towards her and offered a welcoming smile that brought him enough comfort to sit at her side. When this was done, she turned her attention back to the sky, admiring the crimson, golden and tangerine hues - a respite that the Exarch knew was both desired and warranted.

“Indeed, all is well,” she answered in a soft voice. “I just needed to get away. I was beginning to feel a little _too_ stressed, if that is even possible for someone such as I.”

The Exarch watched the space between her brows crinkle and felt the tension behind her forced giggle. He doubted that she even knew she was clenching her hands together on her lap.

“‘Tis well that you are getting the rest you deserve,” he responded encouragingly. “And I am honored you choose to venture to the First in order to do so.”

Aria inclined her head and allowed herself to lean back in her seat, her arms stretching behind her in order prop herself up. Once again, her gaze became distant as she lost herself in her thoughts and it worried the man. He was tempted to reach out towards her, for he wanted nothing more than to collect her in his arms and hold her close. He wanted to erase all her worries and fears, all the pain that she may be experiencing, but then again what could _he_ do? After what he had done to himself in order to extend his lifespan, after what he had done to the Scions during such a delicate period of her life, what right does he have?

“You know, Raha, I think I would do well as an actress,” Aria mused aloud.

The Exarch jolted at the sound of his name - the only one to know who he really was in this world that made him feel, oh, so young again. It shamed him to feel such excitement as he struggled to calm himself and the melancholic tone of her voice aided in such.

“What makes you say that, my friend?”

Aria’s eyes lowered, her smile disappearing. “Because I have been pretending my whole life. Pretending that I do not mind … pretending that I belong.”

The Exarch’s eyes widened at her statement. He immediately wanted to retort, immediately wanted to tell her that she was wrong.

Then, he remembered what she had told him a long time ago:

> _“I lost my mother when I was young. She protected me from Garleans, sacrificed herself for her child. Ever since then, none of us had been the same. My father, my brother and I … we were turning a blind eye to our sorrow and acted as if we were alright. And that is what killed my father - he died of a broken heart.”_

He understood then, exactly what it was that she meant. After all, bearing the power of the gods above in order to contend with the false manifestations of such; in order to combat against entities that only those blessed with great fortune have a chance of defying against, it contributes to the pedestal that they - those belonging of the mortal plane - have placed her in. How lonely must it be to be placed at the top? How much more must she assent with before the heavens above were satisfied?

“I … am tired of only being able to say ‘yes’,” Aria continued. “Tired of being idolized, being brought into a circle and seeing the timid faces of those that pretend to welcome me into their arms. Tired of seeing fearful expressions thinking I may harm them if they were to displease me and the smirks of individuals scheming to gather themselves in my good graces and use my name to gain political advantage.”

The Exarch inclined his head and allowed himself a small smile.

“Then, say ‘no’.”

Aria’s eyes widened and her head snapped in his direction. The small Hyuran woman saw the way his gaze was focused on the beautiful canvas that was the sky. She found his expression soft. Sympathizing. Understanding. 

Then, he turned to look at her.

“You are your own person, Aria. Your feelings are valid and those that truly know you will aid you in your endeavor to help or rest. Declining for the sake of your desires every now and then … it does not make you selfish. It makes you … well, just as anyone else. _Alive_.”

Aria gaped at the man in surprise before she grasped the meaning of his words. A warmth filled her chest and she couldn’t help but smile, a small blush coloring her cheeks as she placed her hand over where her heart would be. She relished in the soft beats, reminding herself that, indeed, she was one of the thousands upon thousands of souls living within this star.

“Yes … _alive_ …” she whispered. “Quite true…”

The Exarch smiled and sensed the shift in her aether, from the quiet rumblings that surely would have lashed out if her emotions were to go out of control to the gentle kindness that brushed upon his skin like a lover’s caress. With this, he stood to his feet and paid no mind that she was still lost in her thoughts as she eyed the skies.

“Take the time you need, my friend. When you have finished, stop by the Ocular, yes? I will have a meal prepared for you.”

Aria hummed and nodded. “Sandwiches?”

“If that is what you wish, I will be more than happy to make them,” the Exarch answered with an amused laugh.

Aria hummed once more and went quiet. Thus did the Crystal Exarch departed, his worries soothed and replaced by an excitement to spend time with the one he dedicated his everything for.


	12. Whimsy (Aymeric/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- [whimsy]: noun; "capricious humor or disposition; extravagant, fanciful, or excessively playful expression," "an odd or fanciful notion" or "a product of playful or capricious fancy." 
> 
> \- References to the level 50-60 LTW and BSM job quests, the moogle beast tribe story line up to level 7 reputation and the side quests available after completion of the New Nest in the Firmament.
> 
> \- shameless use of writing prompt to introduce a new OC complimentary to my WoL that will be featured in future pieces, Rayne "Echoes" Cowen.

“ _I beg your pardon?_ ” Aymeric answered aghast.

Ser Handeloup enjoyed the expression the lord commander gave, for it certainly mirrored the one that he certainly had made when he made his own discovery.

“Indeed, Ser Aymeric,” the second commander responded. “To think, the vaunted Warrior of Light and savior of Ishgard had not only treated with the moogles and House Dzaemel to restore Bahrr Lehs to its former glory, but she single-handedly brought honor to House Jervaint by crafting the equipment she uses to this day. Not to mention that she had worked together with Mistress Elde of the Mercantile association in the Crozier to bring about the case of the leather armor-”

“That was _Aria_ , as well?” the lord commander gaped, his eyes wide with surprise.

“An unexpected development, is it not?” Handeloup answered with a bellow of laughter.

Aymeric leaned back against his seat at the war table in the middle of the Congregation of Knights Most Holy. He _had_ wondered how in Halone’s name the quality of equipment fashioned had increased exponentially, thus increasing the morale of the Temple Knights overall. Moreover, he expected the restoration of the Firmament to take a miserly length of time to complete - only to find that the ideal checkpoint drafted and proposed by Lord Francel had reached completion in the matter of a few moons. Then, there was the young miss from House Jervaint that Handeloup was speaking of, an unpolished gem with such prodigious skill that would have gone unnoticed had it not been for an unknown sponsor fashioning the tools she needed to attend their scouting event. 

“She seems to be quite a number of steps ahead of even you, my lord,” Aymeric heard Lucia tease at his opposite side.

“Indeed…”

The doors to the Congregation had opened and the three lifted their attentions upward to find a rather tall Hyuran male with hair like red wine and heterochromatic eyes the colors of night and day. When the man found that he was being stared at, he raised a brow in their direction and approached them.

“Greetings, Master Echoes,” Aymeric welcomed him with a kind smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

The man known as ‘Echoes’ bowed politely in the lord commander’s direction.

“Greetings, Lord Aymeric. I have come to deliver something to Ser Handeloup on behalf of my lady.”

The company was quite aware of this man’s relationship to the Warrior of Light - rather, Rayne "Echoes" Cowen was an outcast found in the middle of nowhere, fighting to survive, when Aria had run into him. Treated him with the respect that any living individual deserves to be treated, as well as cure him of mortal wounds that would have otherwise ended his life.   
Thus did the man pledge his loyalties to her, allowing only her the use of his true name, and was stationed in Ishgard at her behest, working on behalf of Aria’s birthright and to ensure that Aymeric was taking care of himself. Lucia was eternally grateful.

So, they watched the respected man as he procured a pouch from his pockets, placed it on the wooden war table and slid it towards the second commander. When it reached him, Handeloup retrieved it, mildly startled by its weight, before peering inside.

“Why, this is-!” the man exclaimed, then ogled the man.

Echoes inclined his head. “My lady wishes to invest in Lady Jervaint’s talents. As such, she requests that all of her arms and weaponry needs are to be billed to House Lukos. That is, until the day she completes her training and obtains knighthood. She hopes that the amount withheld in that coinpurse is enough for the course of a moon-”

“Never you mind a moon, Master Echoes, this is enough to last half a year!” Handeloup exclaimed, then shifted to present the pouch to the lord- and first commander.

Echoes raised a brow lazily. “Is that so? Then I have utmost faith that it will be used efficiently.”

Echoes bowed once more and turned to leave, but Aymeric rushed to his feet.

“Please, wait a moment, Master Echoes!”

Stopping in his tracks, Echoes turned back to the man.

“Simply ‘Echoes’ is fine, my lord. I could not possibly accept such honorable words from the one my lady finds favor in.”

Aymeric flinched, startled by the man’s fervent fealty to his beloved. “Th-then, Echoes, please tell me - do you happen to know if Aria is returned to the city?”

Echoes smiled. “Indeed, my lord. However, she urged me not to bring the matter up as she was sure you and yours would be rather occupied at this moment.”

“Do you know where she is at this moment?”

“Yes. She is currently entertaining the children within the Firmament. She will most likely remain there until the sun sets.”

Aymeric shifted his gaze towards Lucia and the woman sighed heavily.

“You do not have an appointment important enough that it cannot wait until the 'morrow,” she answered.

Aymeric’s eyes beamed. “Wonderful! Then, let us pay our dear warrior a visit, shall we?”

The lord commander turned towards Echoes expectantly and the man bowed once more.

“Very good, my lord. Now, if you would.”

The three commanders followed the man out of the Congregation and through the Brume. Eyes followed them, curious to why the renowned Ser Aymeric was strolling about and even Thomelin, the gatekeeper of the Firmament, was startled by the esteemed personage entering. The sight of Echoes did well to keep him from panicking, allowing a rather smooth entry.

Aymeric’s eyes widened. He had heard the New Nest had been completed, but he hadn’t imagined just how _beautiful_ its designs were. As he followed Echoes, he couldn't help but gawk at every building, every staircase and railing that he could, committing it all to memory. Every now and then, he would spy the excited expressions of the inhabitants and the cheers that marked both happiness and hope. The fruit of all their labor - by the Fury, it was all falling to place.

“Here we are, Rolanberry Field,” Echoes announced.

Aymeric, Lucia and Handeloup admired the artistry of the estate. The walls were built on such evenly cut stone and the structure wastes no space on the plot it rested on. Even through the closed doors, the company could hear laughs of glee and delight emanating from it and it made their hearts feel so full.

“Ah, Master Echoes is back,” a voice called out.

The group turned and found a small Elezen girl carrying bolts of cloth in an assortment of colors, as well as find a wicker basket hanging from her arm besides. Upon further inspection, Aymeric and Lucia recognized the small girl to be Maelie, the child that had been tossed off the roof of the Vault during the dreadful day the Brothers of True Faith had held poor citizens hostage within its walls.

“Oh, and so is Ser Aymeric and Ser Lucia!” the girl exclaimed, becoming panicked and yet excitable.

Echoes didn’t hesitate to step towards the girl and stretch his arms out to gather half that the girl was carrying. Maelie smiled wide, grateful for the help.

“Do not be alarmed, Miss Maelie. They are also here to see the lady.”

“Oh!” Maelie turned towards the lord commander and quickly stepped towards him. “Then you’re just in time! Lady Aria is inside and teaching us arts and crafts!”

Aymeric’s smile grew all the fonder. “Is she now? Would you bring us to her? We do not wish to interrupt the class - we simply wish to welcome her home.”

“In that case, we should hurry! We ran out of materials, so Lady Aria had given us coin to purchase more. Everyone’s waiting!”

The girl bounced in her heel and rushed inside the building. Aymeric turned to Echoes and the Hyur male only gave a satisfied grin before he followed the small girl inside. The others mirrored his movements.

The moment the four entered, there was a sudden quiet that was quite opposite of what they had originally heard. That was, until they heard Maelie’s voice echoing against the walls and the subsequent bellows of gratitude from other children at the sight of her haul. There was the sound of rummaging, of children dividing the materials between themselves and when they had crossed the hall into the room they were residing in, they found children gathered before the Warrior of light, watching intently as the woman held an embroidery hoop in her hands, along with a needle and thread.

“Be careful as you stitch the patterns, everyone,” Aria reminded them. “It will not do for you to harm yourselves while practicing. If you are not confident, we have thimbles to protect your fingers.”

“Miss Aria, can you show me how to do this pattern again?” a small boy asked of her.

“Oh, Peyraquile, of course. You do it like this.”

The boy named Peyraquile, as well as two others - a girl wearing a blue winter coat and a boy wearing a grey urban coat - leaned in. Everyone, even children that hadn’t asked the question, watched as the woman weaved the needle in and out of the cloth that Peyraquile presented to her - slow enough for them to pay careful attention, but not as slow as to make them dreadfully bored. When she was finished, she turned back to the child.

“Does that help, my dear?” she asked.

Peyraquile nodded quickly and took the hoop back. “Yes, it does! Thank you, Miss Aria!”

The three children nodded and retreated back to their spot. In that time, three gentlemen wearing red anemos long sleeves and craftsman’s pants stepped to Aymeric’s side from the other direction as they peered into the room.

“My lady, we finished the outer frame of the structure as you have instructed. Do you have the time to inspect it before we move on to the next step?”

“Ah, Rasequin, of course-”

Aria stopped mid-sentence when she followed the direction of the voice and found not only the caretakers present, but the lord speaker of Ishgard in accompaniment of the first and second commander standing by. The sight gave her slight surprise before she sighed and stood to her feet.

“I will be with you a moment, Rasequin, Gontrandoix, Pehainel. In the meantime, please prepare the materials for the next step of construction. Rayne, do you mind watching after the children for a moment?” she asked.

Echoes nodded. “As you wish, my lady.”

Aria shifted her head, motioning for the remaining three individuals to follow and she led them into the kitchen. She quickly prepared Ishgardian tea for them and set delicate teacups before them on the table.

“Please, help yourselves,” she urged.

They did just so as Aria sat at the table with them, watching the three fondly as she propped her head up with her arm, leaning against it ever so slightly.

“I assume you have no qualms with my investment in Lady Jervaint?” she questioned.

Handeloup bellowed in laughter. “Nay, my lady, none at all! Rather, we were rather bewildered on how you manage to continuously surprise us. The lord commander the most!”

Aria shifted her gaze to Aymeric and the man looked horrified hearing that his second commander sold him out almost immediately. Fighting back the burning behind his pink-dusted cheeks, he cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly at the warrior.

“Indeed. You have given so much to Ishgard already, Ia. Such things-”

Aria raised a hand to interrupt.

“Ishgard is also my home, Aym. I will have none of that. Not only is it the duty of a citizen in this beautiful nation to aid where needed, I wish to make use of my talents and knowledge as such. Plus, ‘tis not as if I am spoiling them, as you can see with the fine gentlemen you met earlier.”

“Are they perchance the caretakers of this place, my lady?” Lucia asked.

Aria nodded. “Indeed. They asked for my assistance in creating a playground of sorts for the children. I taught them how to perform basic woodwork and smithing techniques so that they could fare on their own. They only ask of me to check on their work because one cannot be too careful.”

“And the children?” Aymeric asked. “They requested they teach you embroidery?”

Aria chuckled softly at that, a playful and entertained smile stretched upon her lips. “Nay, my dear. They requested to be taught ways they can contribute to the Restoration effort. They came together beforehand and some of them decided that selling custom handkerchiefs as staples of Ishgardian artistry to be exported would be a good idea. Who am I to deny them such ambitions when they are so eager to learn?”

Handeloup hummed, markedly impressed as he leaned back on his seat and crossed his arms.

“What a splendid idea, my lady. And you say they came up with the idea of their own accord?”

Aria nodded. “Indeed.” Aria stood on her feet and offered a curt bow towards the three. “Now, pardon me for my rudeness, but I shall return soon. I mean to inspect the work the fine caretakers have done so they may continue on their project. Ah, but feel free to stay as long as you like. Rayne?”

At the call of his name, Echoes had stepped from around the corner and into the room to join them. He bowed respectively towards Aria before she departed to do as she said she would. It was then that Handeloup found courage to ask what they were all thinking.

“Speak true, Master Echoes, how is it that Lady Aria is so motivated to complete such large tasks?”

Aymeric leaned in where he sat, eager to learn the answer, as well. Echoes pondered over the question, cupping his chin thoughtfully as he had done so.

“Well, if it is my lady, I would assume she is viewing all of this as a game.”

Lucia raised a brow skeptically. “A game?”

Echoes nodded his head. “Yes, Ser Lucia. Recently, Lord Stryder had caught wind of dissenters looking to stain Lord Aymeric’s good name as lord speaker of Ishgard. When my lady heard of this, she was quite furious, you see. So, she challenged the noble houses that were against Lord Aymeric - that if certain requisites were not met within a given time, she will not interfere with any further attempt they would have if they were to put a motion forward to have him step down.”

Lucia jumped to her feet, almost slamming her fist to the table. “That is-!”

“Just as you feel, Ser Lucia,” Echoes answered with an incline of his head. “Unfortunately for them, they only see House Lukos as a middle-ranked noble house with nary a connection to the upper echelons because of their prolonged absence from the country. Moreover, my lady issued the challenge with Lord Stryder as the intermediary - therefore they are unawares that it was actually the Warrior of Light, with all the support of the four High Houses and the Mercantile association of the Jeweled Crozier, not to mention the entire realm besides, that they have challenged.   
So, she has rather taken her time ensuring that the lords would, for lack of a better way of putting it, ‘stew in their mistakes’, as Ser Estinien would say.”

Aymeric, Lucia and Handeloup stared at the man as if he had grown a second before the lord commander pressed his hand against his face and released a helpless laugh.

“Boosting our economy, putting down opposition in a way that maintains their honor as a noble house, raising the status of her own _and_ rebuilding the city-state to a level above its former glory … and she perceives it as a _game_.”

Echoes smiled pleasantly at the sight of the three’s exhaustion and Aymeric was then reminded of the character of the woman that he had fallen in love with. Benevolent as Halone herself and as punishing as the Fury when angered. As astute as the most knowledgeable of academics…

  
...and as whimsical as the very definition of the word can get.


	13. Salvation (Aymeric, Estinien, WoL et al.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or alternative writing prompt, _'if loneliness is a poison'_

_Ah … ‘tis raining._

In the far corners of his mind, Echoes processed the sound and sensation of raindrops, hearing the patter against the rooftops and feel the prickles on his arms. It was a rare sight to see in Ul’dah; after all, rain in a desert is seen once in a blue moon. It wasn’t the kind of rain where the humidity was heavy enough to suffocate, but rather light to breathe in and cool against the skin.

He relished this weather. After all, when it would rain, the people would withdraw into their homes. People withdrawing meant less people to disturb him, much less accuse him of being the conniving thief that he surely _wasn’t_. Yet, that was the life of a scoundrel inhabiting the ‘ _jewel of the desert_ ’, shite nickname it may be.

If it was a jewel, he would have earned his riches a long time ago. He wouldn’t have spent his twenty-something summers fighting for his life, fighting to earn coin to get by, stealing food just so he would be able to latch on to this poor excuse of a livelihood that he has going for him.

_To come and go as rain… how I wish…_

“Oh my. What do we have here?”

The sound of the voice caught Echoes’ attention, causing him to lift his head curiously from where he was sitting in the back alleyway of the merchant’s lane. When he peered up, he found a woman experiencing her mid-twentieth summer on this star with hair like chocolate and eyes like amethysts. She held a black umbrella in her hands, holding it so that the rod was leaning against her shoulder but its black fabric still keeping her dry. At her side stood a man of similar face, slightly older than she, with eyes like poison and hair like soot. It was easy to tell they were siblings - family of the upper echelons at that.

_Disgusting._

Echoes shifted his head to turn away and it only prompted the woman to step forward towards him. When she was close enough, she crouched before him - not minding the fact that the hem of her dress was becoming soaked by the wet cobblestone beneath her feet - as she extended her arm to share her umbrella with him.

“What is your name?” the woman called out to him in a soft, melodious voice.

Echoes refused to answer, ensuring that his gaze was pointed away from her. As much as it had steered previous merchants and those of the upper class away from him, it did nothing to the siblings that stood before him now. Rather, they were patient and he knew they were going to be a pain to ignore. A more direct approach would probably suffice.

Then, as the man was to tell the two off, a group of thugs had rounded the corner and yelled after him.

“There you are, you bastard!” one shouted, carrying a scimitar at his waist.

The woman glanced towards the thug, her expression contorting to childish curiosity and interest as she stood to her feet.

“Ah, I highly doubt that you are all this man’s friends,” the woman mused, the tone of her voice playful … and _baiting_. “Tell me, who are you?”

The man that called out growled in her direction.

“Look, lass, we don’t want any business with you. Just hand over Echoes, the bastard, and we can go on our merry lil’ way-”

“Wait a minute,” another one in the group interrupted. “You. You look exactly like-”

The woman giggled, an ominous and terrifying sound, that rang across the entire alley. Even if it seemed as if the ones present were the only individuals to hear the sound, it felt as if all of the heavens above were watching, waiting and urging the woman to continue to pass judgment - if such a thing could be left in the hands of one mortal to begin with.

“And?” the woman continued. “Now that you know who I am, this makes things much easier. So? What will it be? Will you walk away and leave unscathed or will you force my hand? Surely, such individuals of your caliber should be capable of knowing when to play and when to fold your cards … and which of the two decisions will benefit you greatly at this moment.”

“You _bitch_!” one screamed and charged at her with a battle cry, prompting the others to do the same. It caused the woman to sigh heavily as she stepped forward towards them defensively.

“Stryder, watch after him, will you?” she chimed with a soft smile.

Echoes glanced towards the man of like face and he had inclined his head and body ever so slightly in a subtle bow of respect.

“As you wish, dearest sister,” the man identified as Stryder responded.

Echoes found it odd that the sibling would entreat his counterpart with such politeness usually reserved for royalty, but the flash of light that emitted from the tip of the woman’s umbrella captured his attention. The glow was akin to ice crystals he would see being handed around the crafting guilds, marking the element well and differentiating them from all others. 

With a flick of her wrist, she shifted the direction in which the umbrella’s tip was pointing so that it was angled directly upwards, a straight line towards the cloudy sky. In a matter of a breath, the immediate area around the woman in a five yalm radius erupted in ice, spikes and pillars that both dissuaded the charging assailants from continuing on their path towards her whilst stopping the ones that had come too close by rooting them in place. The freezing cold enveloped up to the knees of those that were within the circle and found it near impossible to break out of it.

“Is that all?” the woman challenged them. “And here I thought you would offer more sport instead of falling to the simplest of umbral ice.”

The men that hadn’t been captured released an onslaught of curses and swears to the woman, all of which only made her playful grin all the wider.

“In that case…”

The woman inclined her head and waved her umbrella vertically before her, as if she was marking all the individuals to be targeted within her next spell. It took a breath before the sound of rumbling could be heard from the skies akin to the anger of a storm and soon, bolts of lightning shot downwards mercilessly towards a large part of the thugs. Its potency was strong enough to render them unconscious, certainly the addition of rain electrifying the waters against their skin adding to the damage dealt. It left one remaining - the one that had opposed her from the beginning. Too little too late, it was only then that the thugs had realized that her umbrella was actually a glamour, masking the staff that she uses as a catalyst to channel her Soul of a Black Mage.

“Now, I trust that you have learnt your lesson,” the woman commented as she snapped her fingers, causing the icy prison around her person to snap and scatter along the wind until it was nothing; as if it had never manifested in the first place. For the ones that were originally caught, they had fallen to the ground, unable to remain upright due to the burning pain of frostbite that engulfed their legs.

“F-Fine, we’ll leave!” the leader of the group bit out, like a mewling pup that was all bark, no bite.

As the men began running, half of which struggling to carry their unconscious or injured comrades over their shoulder, the woman giggled in their direction and waved after them. The glow of her weapon disappeared and the aetherial pressure that Echoes had just noticed dissipated as quickly as it came.

“And please, do not come back!” the woman answered in singsong.

When the thugs turned the corner, Stryder stepped towards the woman and wiped her cheek with a handkerchief.

“Shall we be on our way, Sister?” he asked with a proud smile on his face.

The woman hummed and turned back towards Echoes. The smile stretched on her lips grew soft, less sadistic and was genuine in nature and in the desire to help the one in need before her. Echoes saw this, the transparency of her cause, and allowed his guard to be lowered a little. Just a little.

“Now then... Ah, that is right. Your name. What is your name?”

Echoes inclined his head. “...Rayne. Rayne Cowen.”

The woman looked delightfully pleased at his obedience. “A pleasure to meet you, Rayne. My name is Aria Vitali.”

Echoes’ eyes widened with recognition. _That is the name of the Warrior of Light!_

“Why do they call you ‘Echoes’?” Aria asked then.

Echoes scowled, venom in his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

When Echoes didn’t hear a response from either of the two, he shifted his head to glance towards them and they remained gazing upon him with a gentle look, one that filled his heart with a certain warmth and comfort that he could safely say never made him feel so … safe.

“...’Tis because I can remember something after only reading it once, no matter its length,” Echoes confided rather bitterly. “And I am able to repeat anything I have heard perfectly, no matter how long it is and no matter how long ago I read it.”

“Ah, so you are named ‘Echoes’ as in ‘an echo of a past’,” Stryder mused. “Fascinating.”

Echoes scoffed at this. “A curse, really. If I could trade this thrice-damned curse for a normal life, I would give it up in a heartbeat.”

Silence ensued that was far longer and more agonizing than Echoes would have liked it. His eyes darted towards Aria and the expression she wore was now forlorn, her gaze digging deep against his as if she was peering right into his soul.

“You have beautiful eyes, Echoes…” she commented. “Like night and day.”

Echoes’ eyes widened at the compliment, the first he had ever received in his entire life. The heterochromatic nature of it ostracized him as a child, parents pulling away their children and urging them not to approach him with lies that he had been hexed, bewitched, marked by the voidsent and a whole other fumbling of words that had struck a chord in his heart.

“Tell me, Echoes, do you have a place to call your own?”

Echoes eyed the woman as if she had grown a second head. He was about to retort, accusing her of spewing a whole lot of nonsense considering the state that he was in until he realized that she _knew_ his answer. She knew and was asking anyway. Perhaps searching for a deeper meaning, an alternate reason, a compromise that could be reached.

But what would she want of him? What use would a man of his stature and status be to the woman that had saved this star many times over, a woman of high renown and regard? He would only bring her reputation down and cause people to shun her good name.

Then, a missing piece of a puzzle had come together in his mind: _why was he trying to justify a place by her side?_

The realization seemed to have reached his eyes, lighting them in a way that caught the woman’s attention as her face softened to a pleasant smile once more.

“As I thought…” she murmured quietly, yet loud enough for both Echoes and Stryder to hear. The Hyuran woman stretched her hand towards him, beckoning, offering. Inviting him into a sweet temptation that never in his life he thought he would ever have. “Come with me.”

Echoes inclined his head warily, gaze darting back and forth from her outstretched hand to her kind smile, wondering if there was a catch. Wondering if there was a trick.

Even though he knew in his heart of hearts that there was none.

“But I…”

Aria nodded in understanding. “If loneliness is a poison that you have been drinking for so long, allow me to be your antidote.”

Echoes felt something within him erupt, as if a lockbox to his emotions had been thrown wide open and its key tossed somewhere in the void. It was too, _too_ much - to have lived his entire life unneeded, unknown and unwanted only to have someone as precious as she come along and validate his existence. How many nights has he dreamt of it? How many prayers has he made pleading the Twelve to show him his purpose?

Suddenly, he was crying. Though, it may have been a trick of his mind since the rain began pouring, as if the heavens began weeping on his behalf in both joy and sorrow. Then, she urged once more.

“When someone offers you a chance at life, 'tis only natural to want to reach out and take it. Let my existence be your _salvation_.”

With that, Echoes shakily placed his hand in hers and the tenderness of her fingers entwining with his shattered his restraint and broke him. Broke the mask that he had worn his entire life, a stoic facade that he created for himself as a means of survival in this cruel, cruel world. He didn’t know when he started screaming, his sobs bouncing against the walls around them and imbuing themselves into the cobblestone path beneath their feet, but all he heard was the clanging of an umbrella abandoned as it fell to the ground and the sensation of arms wrapping protectively around his figure. He remembered clinging onto the frame of a woman smaller than he, more delicate than he, and yet so much brighter, stronger, wiser than any that he had ever met before.

Amidst his cries, he shook. Amidst his shakes, he held on. As he held on, he vowed to her - a pledge fitting of a highly decorated knight - that he will not squander on this new life she had given him. He will no longer be an echo to a past filled with sorrow. That is not what ‘Rayne’ will come to mean.

He offered his name to her and only her, in honor of the day that she had saved him. In honor of the rain that served to cleanse his sins and offer him rebirth.

* * *

“And thus I am here today,” Echoes concluded, taking another sip of his beverage.

A brief silence ensued between the three individuals huddled together in a corner of the Forgotten Knight. Estinien appeared rather pensive, his gaze becoming hooded as a thousand thoughts raced across his mind. Meanwhile, Aymeric appeared rather emotional, a stray tear falling from one of his ice blue eyes - similar to the ice that Aria had used once upon a time - as he soaked the information in. Echoes couldn’t help, but smile at it.

“Ah, there you all are,” a voice called out.

The familiar chime caught the men’s attention and gazes drifted towards the top of the staircase where the Warrior of Light was standing - a hand perched on the railing as she peered over in their direction.

“I have been looking everywhere for you three,” the woman stated with a playful undertone. “Stryder has finished with his meetings and, as a small celebration of my empty schedule, has urged us all to have dinner together. Though…” Aria’s eyes swept over the sight of empty tankards spread across their table as she made her way down the staircase to reach them. “...Mayhap I should tell Brother to withhold our wine tonight.”

Estinien glared at the woman, mildly affronted that his sister-in-arms would dare hold back the vintage drinks that suited his palate the best. In response, Aria stuck her tongue out in his direction as she approached Aymeric, who was teetering the line of heavily buzzed to properly smashed, and allowed him to collect her in his arms. It proffered an adoring chuckle to escape her lips as she petted his head.

Then, her eyes wandered to Echoes.

“Is everything alright, Rayne?” she asked.

Echoes mirrored her smile and shook his head. “Indeed, my lady. Everything is as it should be.”

One of Aria’s brows raised, though the smile remained. “Is that so?”

When she felt Aymeric nuzzling against her, she couldn’t help but release a startled laugh as she exclaimed at how ticklish the notion was and the subsequent chiding Estinien was giving the lord commander. Echoes merely watched on in awe of how he managed to get to this point. It was all because of one chance encounter that evolved into a choice, one that he took when it was offered. His heart felt full. His mind was at peace.

  
He thanked the Twelve for answering his prayers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies if this chapter was a bit heavy. I've been feeling ways recently and I needed to get it out ^_^"


	14. Farewells (Hades/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired from Lizz Robinett's acoustic cover of "Ikanaide" (link will be found in notes after the entry) and the dialogue writing prompt, "I don't care if the world knows my name, I just want _you_ to remember me."
> 
> **[MAJOR SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS]**

_“Remember… remember us. Remember… that we once lived…”_

It was the only thing that Hades could think to say to her, to this fragmented and inadequate soul that stood in defiance against him. 

Rather, it was the only thing that he could _bear_ to say to her. 

He recognized the color of the soul that the individual that stood before him had, a pale comparison to someone he held dear so long ago. When this 'hero' stepped into the First, he thought to judge the capacity to which such imperfection could withhold the Light. Somewhere, deep down, he hoped and prayed that - by doing so - the person that he had cherished long ago would return to him. When she had failed, well, the disappointment was too much for him to handle.

Hades felt himself fade away, the aetherial sea calling out to him as he began scattering into the wind. Just as Lahabrea did. Just as all his fallen brethren did.

Then, this vaunted hero did something that he hadn’t expected. She _cried_.

“Wait for me!” the woman exclaimed.

Hades’ eyes, as beautiful as starlight, widened at her plea. For what reason would she desire for him to _wait_ for her in death, he didn’t understand, and the surprise alone was enough to shock him into silence.

More than anything, it was enough for him to silently take in her features. This ‘Aria Vitali’...if he was of the same species as she, he would have taken a fancy to her, that was of no doubt. Not only was her personality the same as his beloved’s, but so was her hair, her eyes, her _voice_. Everything was the same, a mocking mirror of holy perfection that once was and he wanted no more than to see the life drain away from her the moment they met. How dare she be reborn into a state of such...such...incompletion!

The woman may have sensed such sentiments emanating from him considering how she flinched. Yet, she stepped forward once, twice, holding a hand to clasp the fabric of her dress covering her chest. Right where her heart was.

“Even if everyone in the world forgets your name, I will remember!” she cried out. “I will remember, so wait for me! I will see this through and come running back to your side…!”

Hades’ eyes widened at her declaration and a memory flashed within his mind’s eye. Of a time so long ago…

> _“Hades, do you presume there will ever be a day where you forget about me?”_
> 
> _Hades’ almost dropped his tome in astonishment, incredulous to the thought that she would even assume that of him. Yet, from the way that she appeared, her gaze made up of beautiful amethyst eyes that stared so far from where they were, there was something that was bothering her. So much so that she had begun doubting and fearing what should not be feared._
> 
> _“I doubt that there will ever be a day, my dear,” Hades responded, deciding to dedicate his full attention to her and only her._
> 
> _“Even amidst your piling work?” she teased, a ghost of a smile stretching her lips._
> 
> _Hades inclined his head. “No matter how quickly time ticks by, even as an eternal night takes hold and I have no one save the company of the silhouette beneath my feet. I swear on my name and soul that even if the entire star forgets your name, I will not.”_
> 
> _Hades saw the woman’s cheeks flush to the bright shade of peonies and witnessed the way she withdrew shyly within herself. He found it endearing and among the countless reasons why he had fallen for her to begin with. Such a brilliant soul, a hidden gemstone amidst the masses of their people, how could he_ possibly _forget?_
> 
> _“You say the sweetest of things…” the woman whispered as she crawled over to where he was, finding her place atop his lap and reaching out to idly touch the lavender crystal infused within the teardrop earring he wore - a small thing she fashioned for him as a present when he had been elected into office. In turn, Hades wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close as he pressed his lips against her forehead._
> 
> _“I speak the truth and nothing but.”_
> 
> _His reassurance seemed to do well to quell the storm within her heart, for the aether that swirled around her person and her soul had calmed. They stayed like this, in their own circle, as if they were the only beings that mattered._

“I swear on my name and soul... I will not!”

Hades felt as if he was to come undone, not because he was fading away to join the fallen, but because there was no way that her words were coincidence.

Then, for the first time since she stepped forth in his domain, he gazed into her eyes - the same amethysts that her previous unsundered form bore, his one and only beloved that he prayed to see once again - and found hints of recognition. She knew what she was saying and the effect that it would have on him- no, on _both_ of them.

With this, Hades smiled.

“Then… I shall wait...”

Aria saw the way his lips shaped and moulded one last string of syllables that became lost along the breeze as Hades’ form dissipated into motes of light. She hadn’t realized that she gasped as she unconsciously reached out, as if trying to capture the little bits of what he was in a futile attempt to piece him back together again.

 _No,_ she reminded herself. _He cannot… Will not…_

The thought of it threatened to shatter her as she fell to her knees, raising her hands to cover her face as she sobbed in the broken city he created in memory of their past. She felt the connection the entire time, knew it existed, prayed it wouldn’t come to this. The knowledge of it made her cries all the heavier.

> _I will be waiting._

Within arm’s reach, a single teardrop earring with an amethyst imbued in the center had fallen and sparkled against the shining light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ikanaide" Acoustic ver. (Vocaloid) English Cover by Lizz Robinett: https://youtu.be/U0JI-zeICsU


	15. Tomorrow (Aymeric/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dipping my toes in the NSFW side of writing fanfics. Purposely left ambiguous despite it being a personal WoL challenge because everyone deserves to imagine their own OC's doing the honey-lemon-spice with this glorious gift SE has given us :')

Heavy breathing, beads of sweat. Hazy minds and bare skin. A single desire in the dead of night.

Aymeric relished in the ecstasy that assaulted him, wave after wave, as he took pleasure in pleasing you. You were warm around his manhood, your walls squeezing around him like the greedy thing that you are. His back stung of scratches you had left - not that he minded, quite the opposite, really - just as he took pride in the crimson marks that he had made that were blooming on your neck.

He inclined his head downwards to press his lips against it once more, perhaps just an ilm away from his latest creation, to add more color to the canvas that was your skin. Surely, he will admit that he did just so as he angled himself to hit that spot that makes you absolutely melt later. Reason being that he wanted the satisfaction of knowing his ministrations were servicing you with such high quality and that he alone has the honor of providing such for you. 

Aymeric will commit to memory the sounds you make as you cried out his name in both desperation and in approval. He will engrave to his bones the sensation of your frame shaking against his as it fought to hold off just a bit longer because you were so damn close and he was so damn far. Polite as he is, he will entertain your wishes for perhaps a few more strokes until he himself becomes unchained, the pistoning of his hips no longer controlled by coherency but a primitive instinctual need that cannot be ignored.

Your name spills from his lips like a mantra, a chant, between breathy pants and moans that only served to fan the flames and tighten the core of your belly. Your hands scramble to find purchase in anything, from the bed sheets to blankets, the pillows and scattered clothes, until Aymeric shows you mercy and entwines his fingers with yours. His grip was tight as he helplessly rested his face against your neck and you knew that this round was drawing to a close.

Closer.

Closer.

Soon, you were engulfed in a flash of white, a hot apex that filled you to the brim as his seed spilled within. You couldn’t help but cry out his name in a pitiful attempt to voice your sentiments aloud because, by the Twelve, he was _so good to you_. At the same time, you felt him twitch inside, the movement against your oversensitivity making you want to nearly sob whilst demanding more.

As your hearts steadied, Aymeric leaned back up so that he could bask in the sight that was your afterglow. Your irises were but slender rings encasing the obsidian of your blown out pupils, your cheeks dusted in the hue of roses as you gazed upon him in absolute adoration. He was weak, so _very_ weak, to you and this expression you don him that he couldn’t help but mutter incoherently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, your temple, your cheek and finally your lips in the gentlest manner.

Separating was the hardest part. The departure of your heat made the cold settle terribly against him and without him to fill you, the emptiness made you all the more distraught. That is why Aymeric doesn’t fight when you pull him back down to the bed when he attempts to get up to fetch a cloth. It is why he allows you to take the lead as you straddle his hips, angling his tip to the paradise between your legs to grant him entry once more. 

Already having been stretched and accustomed to his length, you were quick on your descent to fully sheathe him within you and the sudden sensation of being completely hilted made Aymeric throw his head back against the pillows. Soon, your hips were moving and his own matched the notion in tandem; taking and giving, giving and taking.

Although the both of you knew you had packed schedules on the 'morrow, you continued bathing in this carnal desire. Later, you will both have to fulfill your respective duties - he within his offices and you in a land far from reach. So you both continue to take what you need to carry on despite the threat of exhaustion. 

Tomorrow, Aymeric will be the lord commander. Tomorrow, you will be the Warrior of Light. 

However, right now, you are two paramours bathing in love, dipping in lust, with no responsibility but to ensure the other is satisfied and satiated.

  
All until the sun rises.


	16. Gentle (Aymeric/WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My last entry for gatheredfates' WoL challenge. Thank you everyone for being with me on this journey! If you have any recommendations to other writing challenges, feel free to let me know either here or on Tumblr at **ffxiv-ariavitali.**
> 
> I have another fanfic I'm drafting that I'll be working on simultaneously alongside _A Brand New Canvas_ , so if you're interested in that, do stick around! Here's a little hint: if you enjoy anime such as Shield Hero, Overlord, Log Horizon and Sword Art Online, you may be able to anticipate the premise of this upcoming story! ^_^

Aymeric laid beside Aria underneath the pale moonlight peeking through the curtains. The blankets and shared body heat between them was enough to keep the other warm even as they wore nothing underneath the fabrics.

In this rare moment of respite, the lord commander took the opportunity to commit the sight of his warrior to memory. She had always been a feast to the eyes - with and without clothing on - but this night was rather different. Indeed, she is a temptation that all his years of faith in Halone could not steer him away from, but there was a certain vulnerability to allowing the presentation of bare skin in this manner. A higher level of trust, a deeper affectionate intimacy and a sense of something connecting not only their hearts, but their souls together.

He didn’t mind that Aria was watching him. It was an idle gaze filled with curiosity and adoration, he knew, as he ran the tips of his fingers across the canvas of her body. This godly figure brought down to mortality, born to save him and those like him from themselves, was both a treasure to admire and a delicate heart to protect. She was more powerful than the force of nature and could yet easily shatter to pieces like broken glass.

The proof of it was the markings across her skin.

Aymeric brushed his fingers gently across the discolorations. Some were shaped as thin lines, indicating the improper mending of a blade’s cut on her figure, whilst others could be inferred to as marks left behind after burning flames charred her flesh. There were even ones that he recognized as remnants of sharp piercings against her skin, either from stab wounds or arrows that had been shot in her direction.

He was unsure how long ago these scars had painted her body. Even if the strain and torment had long disappeared, even if she was a soldier in her own right, it grieved his heart to know that his love had gone through such tortures in her life.

Perhaps that is what causes him to lean in closer to her. Maybe it’s what urges him to brush his lips across each and every mark. The notion itself wasn’t meant to excite, but merely comfort. To take away any residual ache that may still exist and replace it with the memory of his actions now.

Whatever the underlying reason, Aria didn’t deny him as she continued to watch the man she had chosen. His ice blue eyes enraptured her and she couldn’t protest against his actions if she wanted to. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his tousled hair, admiring the softness of the raven locks.

Then, there were his own scars. Embedded emblems of a knight that knew battle, challenged adversity and didn’t back down from it. It was enough to make her heart swell in bearing witness to his resolve and having proof of it. These scars, she thought, are trophies in its own right - rewards for continuing on the path he has chosen despite how thorny a path it may be. It served as her inspiration, emboldened her on her journeys and bolstered her sense of purpose. She couldn’t help but tremble in awe as she beheld him and allowed these sentiments to pass through her mind.

With this, Aria and Aymeric remained in this sojourn - this content bubble meant only for them - as they basked each other with gentle means of sculpting souls that take years for one to understand.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"gentle means of sculpting souls took me years to understand" are lyrics from the song "Leader of the Band" by Dan Fogelberg - one of my personal favorites.


	17. Crystalline (Crystal Exarch & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Shadowbringers spoilers ahead**

The Exarch caught her staring as they sat side by side in the Ocular. They sought respite amidst the chaos, a small break where no one would disturb them as they read tomes together. As they once did.

"Is aught amiss, my friend?" The Exarch asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

Aria's expression didn't change; the way it appeared contemplative, as if she was attempting to dissociate herself as she is wont to do as a defense mechanism. He was, if anything, one part relieved because she hadn't changed a bit from where they last parted. From where she bade him 'good night' when he resolved to put the Crystal Tower and its contents to sleep.

The other part was worried for her. The fact that she was dissociating was, most oft than not, when she was brooding. When she was thinking negative thoughts and hurting herself because of it as a result. As he was about to ask, she answered his silent question.

"Your arm..." she whispered.

He watched as Aria reached out to touch his crystalline arm with the tips of her fingers, so hesitant and unsure. The Exarch could barely process the sensation; the stimuli from flesh having mostly hardened when he became one with the Tower itself. He vaguely felt the brushes against his arm when she skimmed the crystal, only becoming acute when she would reach the golden veins.

Then, he felt her do a curious thing. She felt her weaving her aether in the air above his arm before infusing itself within him. It was an odd sensation, the attuning, but there was an overwhelming warmth that began filling him in the places she had touched. If it was a color, it was that of the sun. If it was a taste, it was a pleasurable saccharine.

In a way, he found that he was attuning to her, as well. He sensed her desire to protect more acutely, her wish for a brighter future burning stronger by the second, and then...

...then, there was this guilt that was building within her chest. A guilt spurring from thoughts of weakness and vulnerability. When the Exarch lifted his head to retort, his eyes widened, for there was a figure standing behind where the woman was. The shadow—if it could even be called that with how much it resembled man—stared back at him and though its face was hidden behind the helm, the Exarch knew.

"I...am sorry, Raha," Aria muttered then.

The surprise of it was enough to break the Exarch's concentration, the attunement thus ending when she had pulled her fingers back to her lap.

"Whatever for, my friend?" he replied in question, smiling gently towards his closest friend.

Aria inclined her head, eyes darting away from his own. "For... what you have had to go through."

The Exarch chuckled softly and reached up to pat the woman's head. Aria froze at the contact for the briefest moment before forcing her body to relax once more and he felt sympathy for her. She was trying her best and he has always admired her for it.

"The choices I've made are none other than my own," he answered before pulling her into a hug. "If it was to save you, I would do it again—just as I know that you would have done anything for me in kind."

He heard no word of complaint from the woman and the Exarch nodded approvingly before parting from her. He placed his hands reassuringly on her shoulders and nodded in an attempt to capture her attention.

"So, instead, smile for me, Aria," the Exarch continued. "Smile and all shall be well."

Aria gazed upon him in silence before her lips cracked upward slightly. He responded with one of his own and felt her aether brushing against him once more.

This time, it was simply warm.


	18. Midnight (Aymeric/WoL)

> _It was midnight when I had returned. Returned to my home after an extended visit to the First._
> 
> _I have always missed the bustle of Ishgard and a part of me has also missed the jeering of nobles as they gossip and scheme among each other. I missed the snowfall and the cold, the towering spires and concrete statues amidst the Pillars._
> 
> _However, there were more important things than that; more important things to miss. It was in remembering this that I quickened my step to return to the place that I belonged. To return to the house that I have called 'home' since his arms opened up to me._
> 
> _And as I approached the estate, I found that there was a dim light burning behind the upper floor's windows—the one belonging to the bedchambers that he and I shared. I couldn't help but smile at the notion, for he was waiting._
> 
> _How long has he been waiting? Is this a regular occurrence? At least he is home and not in his office at the Congregation._
> 
> _So, I knocked upon the door. One set. Two sets. Three. He realized that there was knocking on the third; the shadows in the lit window had stirred. So I counted._
> 
> _Five seconds to cross the hall from our bedchambers._   
>  _Five seconds to descend the staircase to the main hall._   
>  _Five seconds to reach the door._
> 
> _On the fifteenth second, I heard a click from the door before it swung open. My eyes met his of icy blue and he quickly took me into his embrace._
> 
> _"Welcome home, my love," he greeted in a small, yet wavering voice._
> 
> _I smiled and wrapped my arms around him. "I am home."_
> 
> _It was midnight when I had returned._
> 
> _And it was midnight when I heard his voice once again._

—Aria Vitali, "Her Unending Journey", on the topic of the First: 'Returning Home'.


	19. Confession (Edmont & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Platonic, **some Shadowbringers spoilers**.

Lord Edmont de Fortemps watched as Aria smiled happily as she brought the teacup to her lips. The taste of chamomile and rose petals skimmed their tongues, the scent of potpourri bathing them in herbal remedies—to which the lord knew that this combination was her favorite—basking them in a refined sort of indulgence and relaxation. On her plate was an array of pastries, a sweets tower often found in High House tea parties standing in the center of the table while the lord was content with scones and lemon bread.

It had been a while since the woman had returned home, had returned to Ishgard. He had heard news passed from her brother, who obtained his tidbits from the Scions themselves. Whatever she had experienced in this new land called 'the First' clearly had its toll on her. As a father, Edmont was able to pick up on the differences rather quick: the dark circles under her eyes, the scabs of dried over cuts left over on exposed skin and the slight twitchiness she was displaying among some of the tells he knew that she wasn't aware of showing.

However, the lord had more tact than to ask. His home was her solace, a place that she can escape to that bars the entrance of those looking to manipulate her, looking to use her name and status for their own gain. He knew the game Ishgardian nobles were wont to play despite knowing that they _should_ be grateful to the Warrior of Light for freeing them of years of battle with the Dravanians. For sparing them the fate of being razed to the ground by Nidhogg and his brood. He won't suffer for it and all within his estate is painfully aware; after all, they bear the same sentiments as the heads of house.

"Father, is aught amiss?"

Lord Edmont blinked, pulled from his reverie by the woman calling out to him. He offered a repentant smile and inclined his head.

"Mine apologies, my dear, 'tis the old age preventing me from hearing clearly. Would you do this old man a favor of repeating what you last said?"

Aria laughed at the comment, a bird-like, melodious sound, in response.

"If you were of old age, then you would not be moving as spritely as you were when you had greeted me early in the morn. I only mean to say that I had learned of a variant of herb that may aid in your arthritis while in Novrandt. When I next visit, I will harvest some and see what I can do about concocting an herbal remedy."

_There she goes again_ , the lord thought. _Caring about others and not for herself._

Edmont's smile widened and he nodded in understanding.

"You are kind overmuch, my dear. You need not go out of your way to procure the ingredients. As you said, I am still a 'spritely' man."

At this, the pair burst into cheerful chuckles and the lord saw the way that the man- and maidservants standing in wait near the wall smiled in kind. The warmth of the Warrior, the happiness of their lord together in one place and one time was a sight for sore eyes. 

The truth is more complicated; the lord being privy to them whispering and collecting news on Aria's affairs, worrying for her as if she was truly a trueborn daughter of House Fortemps. It was a shame that House Lukos, the true blood family of the Vitali children, had originally denied their lineage for the children's mother had conceived them with a lowborn with no status, no money, no honor. It was only after Aria had made a name of herself after slaying Nidhogg in which they tried to claim them as their own, even forcefully at times. They truly didn't know such treasures if it hit them in the-

Edmont took a sip of his tea, pushing the thoughts to the furthest corner of his mind. It was well and good that Stryder, Aria's elder brother, had decided to accept the position of House Lukos' next head of house. It was interesting to learn his decision of keeping the 'Vitali' surname, but he confided that it was because neither he nor his sister wished to forget their roots and where they came from. 

Moreover, the notion of allowing Aria to remain with the Fortemps family was a statement in itself: 'I care not for what you do to me, but I will _never_ allow you to touch my sister with your greedy hands' is the words that was said. At least, according to Echoes, Aria's attendant. Thus was she here, thus has she made this manor her home for most of her days. That is, until the day a certain lord commander clad in blue decides to take her for his wife.

"Father, there is something I must confess," Aria began.

With the way that the woman had gently placed her tea cup down, the way her eyes suddenly went serious, it was something that had been swirling about her mind and heart for a while. So, Edmont did the same and sat upright just a bit more as a silent indication that he was paying attention. He saw that she appreciated notion as she smiled just a bit despite her hesitation before she finally spoke.

"You know, Father, I do not have many regrets in life. I try my best to live as if every moment is my last considering the nature of the work I am doing."

_Indeed. There are many souls worrying for your safety every day._

"But, you know, Father... The day that I realized that I was dying, that I realized that the primordial Light was close to consuming all of me, there were a few things that I learned that I regretted."

At this, Edmont's eyes widened in slight surprise, his jaw going slack to which Aria had smiled sympathetically albeit wistfully.

"The first was not telling Haurchefant how much he meant to me. For allowing the fear of being hurt to consume me to the point that I was no longer afforded the chance. When I think about it, I am sure he knew and I am sure he felt the same way. There was too many things going on, after all...!"

Aria chuckled softly to herself, nervously, but Edmont didn't begrudge her for it. He knew from the first the sentiments they had for each other even when they were still figuring it out for themselves. She had gone through so much and she yet pushed on. He could never hate her for it. In fact, it made him love her even more.

"My other regret, though, Father... was not telling you how much you mean to me."

Edmont could only stare at the woman, a whirlpool of emotions swirling within his chest. He saw the manner to which her amethyst eyes glazed with unshed tears, her lips remaining stretched so she would be able to finish her confessions to him before she, herself, fell apart.

"Losing Mother when we were young really tore Stryder and I apart. When I lost my biological father hereafter, I could not help but blame myself. 'If only I was wiser. If only I had reached out to others for help earlier.' I know that he passed from an incurable disease and I truly regret not loving him more.

Yet, I am grateful. For if it was not for his last wish to have us bear witness to Ishgard and its splendors, I would not have become an Adventurer. I would not have met Haurchefant or seen the land that they hailed from. I am sure my mother and father are happy where they are and they would forgive me for such arrogance in saying this... Lord Edmont, I am _proud_ to call you 'Father'. A father that had taken me in his home when I had no where else to go, that has loved and guided me on my path and has wiped my tears when I have cried despite not being his own."

It was at this that Aria couldn't help, but spill the tears she tried desperately to hold back. She sniffled, hiccuped and it brought to life the paternal instincts within him. So much so that he couldn't help but shedding tears of his own.

"Wh-When I thought that I would not be able to tell you th-this, I was heartbroken," she said inbetween her sobs. "So I...I wanted to tell you immediately."

Edmont stood to his feet, circling the table and took the woman into his embrace, patting the back of her head gently. He allowed her to openly weep against his clothing, offering sweet hushes and words of reassurance, and when both Artoirel and Emmanellain had crossed the hall and peeked into the room to see what was happening, he could only give them a reassuring expression.

"Is everything alright, old girl?" Emmanellain asked, ever so tactless.

Edmont nodded. "Indeed. Just a little sentimental, your sister is."

Artoirel smiled helplessly. "Ah, so it seems."

When they approached, Edmont reached out and pulled the two into his embrace, as well. He was blessed to have such children, one who loves him and whom he loves in earnest.

He will confess this to all of Ishgard if need be.


	20. Soar (Aymeric/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired by the song 'Letter' by TRUE, found in Violet Evergarden's special episode

Aria never knew if she could love again. Not after the first time.

It was as if she was being impaled from all directions, the strength and energy leaving her body with each second that passed by. It was as if, with every breath that she took, she was inhaling toxic gas or gulps of needles that threatened to destroy her from the inside out. The thought of it, indeed, was too much to bear. Way too much.

So, why is it that she can't help but feel the same way towards _him_?

The Hyuran woman stared at the back of the man clad in sapphire and gold. She admired the way his raven locks swayed along with the breeze and how he kept his back straight through all of the ordeals that he has faced since becoming lord commander. She admired the way the aquamarine of his eyes would sparkle against the sunlight, would glint with a sense of hope and longing for a future filled with peace.

Thancred had teased her many times before. With how 'courteous' he is regarding her, one wouldn't assume he is a politician in his own right, especially when the man is thoughtful enough to send her gifts to cheer her up when she was feeling down. Aria knew that her comrade was looking out for her; after all, the bond they had come to share was that akin to a little sister and her older brother. Deny it as she may, the rogue would simply laugh and tease her even more.

In this case, why does she feel such loneliness when they're apart? Why is it that her thoughts stray to his well being whenever she was on her adventures? Why is her desire to see him smile for her becoming such an important task to fulfill whenever she could?

_Why is the answer so close to her grasp and yet so far away?_

"Why not write a letter, Sister?"

Aria peeked up from where she was sitting, her amethyst gaze sweeping across the tea table in the Fortemps manor to find a face similar to her own. Hair like obsidian, eyes like violets, her brother, Stryder, smiled at her kindly from where he sat.

"...A letter?" she asked.

Stryder nodded. "Aye. A letter. Perhaps writing your thoughts will help you organize them. And when you feel courageous enough to speak how you feel, you can give him the letter yourself or read it aloud."

Aria stared at her brother with an empty expression, silently and curiously, until she nodded in response. 

That night, once she had retired to her bedchambers for the evening, she stared at the empty parchment sheet, at the inkwell and quill on her desk. A part of her wanted to scream, wanted to sing, wanted to pen down all she was feeling, but she didn't know exactly what those words were amidst the haze of her mind.

_"Oh, do not look at me so."_

The next day, Aria departed for the forests of Bentbranch Meadows just outside of New Gridania. Outside of the place that her family had called home before her parents had passed. Rays of sunlight peeked through the verdant trees, kissing her skin as if it was a lover's touch. A gentle breeze caressed her skin and she couldn't help but close her eyes and bathe in it since no one was there.

_"A smile better suits a hero."_

The woman flinched, remembering the words, and she couldn't help but clench her hands into fists. Something within her wanted to burst, wanted to shout, wanted to beg for release and she knew not what it was. It was too much, far too much, until she felt a single droplet on her cheek. Then two, then three.

Suddenly, a sun shower was raining down on her gently as if it was shedding the tears she wanted to release for her. With the way the leaves above rustled, with the way the breeze danced across emerald earth surrounding her, the forest itself could be singing silently in the attempt to her encourage her. It filled her with a sense of something warm that she didn't know she needed.

She continued on, taking short steps on the ground that wasn't dry and she felt yearning. Looking at it in a passing glance, she wouldn't have understood, but because she had the time, it was there that she was able to see it. Something that only she could see.

Her path to her 'someday'.

A sudden bout of inspiration filled her, a sudden need to do what must be done, and Aria quickly teleported back to Foundation to see it through. 

Up the stairs and across polished gravel, from the Brume to the Crozier to the Pillars where the High Houses stood, she did not stop until she had returned. She didn't realize that Artoirel and Edmont had taken notice of her as she quickly made her way back to her bedchambers. She did not see the pleasant smile on her blood brother's face as he visited once more to check on her. All she thought was to do what she must.

Thus did she take the quill, dipping the tip generously with ink, and she began writing:

> _"Love is like transparent water._   
>  _When I reach out to accept it, it disappears from right in front of me once again like feathers on a windy day._   
>  _Similar to you._
> 
> _But love can always be found in a place flooded with sunshine._   
>  _Even if it cannot be seen, even if it cannot be touched, it is always beside us. Around us._   
>  _So I ask you this:_
> 
> _...Do you think it is **with** us?"_

As soon as she was done, Aria folded and sealed the letter neatly before placing it in her pouch to run back out of the manor.

She wanted to see him. She knows what this feeling is now. The sensation has her body tingling with electricity, the small-burning flame barely kept alight within her heart exploding into an inferno that couldn't be contained. 

It was love that people sacrifice themselves for the sake of others.  
It was love that allows people to continue walking forward in the hardest of times.  
It was love all along.

"Am I right, Haurche...?" Aria gasped as she ran, a small smile on her face with soft tears spilling from her eyes. "Do I have the right?"

When she reached the doors of the Borel estate, Aria reached up to knock upon the hardwood. Once for an indication, twice for a reminder, thrice for good luck. Her heart thrummed within her chest, the place where she tucked away the letter like hot coal burning through the layers of leather and cloth. She stood at a crossroads, she knew, and there was no going back.

Thus, when the doors opened and Aria found that it was none other than Aymeric de Borel that had answered, the woman almost stumbled on her feet.

"Aria, my friend, is everything alright?" he asked.

Perking up at the sound of his voice, Aria felt her cheeks grow warm—much too warm—and she couldn't help but fill with nervous excitement at the sight of him.

_I want to see you._

Aria retrieved the letter from her pouch.

_I want to hold you._

She lifted her arm to hand it off to Aymeric.

_I want to lo-_

It was at this time that a strong gust of wind blew against Aria and Aymeric both, startling them with enough force that not only caused the woman to almost fall over, but to loosen her hold of the letter. Before she could, she felt arms wrap around her waist and shoulder and when she peeked up, she found that Aymeric was peering down at her with bashful worry. They could only stay staring at each other, in awe and in adoration, before they realized what had happened.

"Aria, your letter-!" Aymeric exclaimed.

Aria blinked and shifted her head to the side. Indeed, the letter was floating, flying, soaring away through the air like a free bird that had finally been released from its cage. The way it appeared, the warmth that she felt, it was if someone was telling her that it was alright, that they were with her and that they would be watching over her no matter what.

That she was loved no matter what.

"'Tis alright, Aymeric," Aria whispered delicately with a soft smile.

Her gaze met his own and she found that same sparkle filling her to the brim once more. She no longer needed to hesitate. She didn't have to wait anymore.

"Aymeric, I..."

As the evening came and the street lamps lit, Aria spoke the words aloud to the man that she couldn't originally say. When all was said and done, a path was paved, one of her own creation and reciprocated by the man as he took her into his embrace.

 _Love really is like sunshine,_ Aria thought to herself. _It really...is warm._


	21. Bloodshed (WoL & OCs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Stormblood spoilers!**

Echoes remembers the day Ala Mhigo had been liberated very well, as if the events that transpired had tattooed itself into his very soul.

The man remembers overhearing the conversation the Scions had with one another. His lady Aria’s jaw hardened in tension, the atmosphere around them heavy as they said naught but two phrases akin to a prayer or a mantra, perhaps even a chant for good luck:

_Hells open, heavens weep._   
_Hells open, heavens weep._   
_Hells open..._

He remembers storming into the castle with his charge and her brother, an irregular unit assigned to provide help where needed but ultimately searching for the Garlean prince’s whereabouts to assassinate him. A dragoon, a gunbreaker and a monk that were provided healing magick along the way by conjurers they passed, by soldiers tossing potions to them if nothing else. Again, he would hear the same phrases, starting from those they passed by and answered by the Warrior of Light.

_Hells open, heavens weep._   
_Hells open, heavens weep._   
_Hells open…_

Echoes vaguely remembers the battle against Shinryu, a bastardisation of a primal melded into a man intoxicated by insanity and battle. He remembers the faces of some hired sellswords he recognized to be part of his charge’s raiding party, those that refused to allow his lady Aria to fight the demon alone. Blood was shed but no life within their group of eight was lost, a blessing in itself.

When the party disbanded for the sake of needing to report to central command, the man remembers the cheers those around them gave as they welcomed their return. As they welcomed the victory that the Warrior of Light brought to them. He remembers the tension in her body, the polite smile she had masking her insecurities and once she had greeted everyone, she quickly made an escape just outside the Ala Mhigan Quarter to the bridge where the canons were originally fired.

_Hells open, heavens weep._   
_Hells open…heavens weep…_   
_Hells open…_

Echoes remembered watching as his charge had collapsed to her knees as she overlooked the sunset in the horizon. He remembered being stopped by Stryder when he attempted to run to her. He remembered being able to do nothing but watch as the woman behind the warrior burst into tears, screaming towards the sky; her cries of agony and torment heard by no one but them and the gods above.

It was then that Echoes remembered Rhalgr’s Reach and Doma Castle. He remembered Operation Rhalgr’s Beacon and the resonant research facility. All the pain and suffering, the anger and the grief, all the bloodshed that has rained upon them that led up to this very moment.

Echoes shed a tear, for the sentiments that he and Stryder were feeling must be exacerbated in the woman’s heart ten, a hundred, _a thousand_ times over. In crimson it began and in crimson it has ended. Now that they have the chance to think of all that’s happened, it would seem to be the most reasonable response.

_Hells open, heavens weep._   
_Hells open, heavens weep._

_...an angel weeps._


	22. Trial (WoL & OCs)

> "There was always a trial. There was always a reason why she needed to prove herself, as if she has not done so time and time again. There was always a battle, always blood that needed to be shed for the the greater good.
> 
> But where is the justice?
> 
> Is it in the tears of the lovers that have lost their 'forevermores'? Is it in the questions of young children that ask when their mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters will return home after the war? Or is it in the verdant earth turned wasteland as a result of war, where, corpse after corpse, the sin grows and stains their hands?
> 
> Nay, my good sers, for that is not the reason why my beloved sister—why the Warrior of Light, a woman named Aria Vitali—fights.
> 
> For the reason she fights is to ensure those forevermores remain together for more than forever. So that our young ones need never ask their siblings, their sires or grandsires what it means to live without. So that the land that we continue to live on remains but a home for us, nothing less.
> 
> So, I tell you, my good sers and madams—we are lords. We are ladies. We are soldiers. We are _knights_. 
> 
> What reason do we have not to accept the Alliance's call to battle? By what manner of god do we make ourselves to be to deny our brothers and sisters the freedom that we have recently obtained? For we craved it, yearned for it, _tasted it in trickles_ for nigh over a thousand years with scant any choice and it took but a single woman to rekindle the fire in your hearts.
> 
> And when you felt the kindling erupt into an inferno within your breasts, did you deny the woman that fought for you, shed tears for you and suffered for you when the dark wyrm's shade stood before the Gates of Judgement on the Steps of Faith?! Nay! Nay, I say! For we fought! And we fought! _And we fought!_
> 
> ...And we won our freedom.
> 
> So, let me ask of you again, my good sers and madams. My brothers and sisters.
> 
> Why are you allowing the fear of the unknown to paralyze your bodies, to freeze your courage when you know what we are capable of? Why are you allowing a trial be as a mountain within your mind when 'tis only but a simple pebble on a snowy path?
> 
> Our savior calls to us, not as a plea, but as a favor. A simple request that proffers us the chance to repay a debt. Think of your mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, that yet remain because a hand was outstretched. Imagine what _good_ we can do for those that desire the same victory as us.
> 
> As the head of House Lukos, vassal to the great and noble House Fortemps, I—Lord Stryder Vitali—do solemnly pledge my family's aid to these people with the full support of my benevolent liege.
> 
> I pray, lords and ladies, you would all have the courage to do the same."

**—On the topic of Ala Mhigo's Liberation: Stryder Vitali, viscount of House Lukos, addressing the opposition at the House of Lords regarding the nation's participation in the war effort**


	23. Winter (Haurchefant/WoL)

> _'A winter of their discontent'_ is what Haurchefant used to describe their plight in Coerthas. How true it was, for not a single day passed where the snow would fade away to other seasons that yet exist.
> 
> I wondered how he always managed to smile despite the blizzards and the freezing temperatures, how he was able to get used to it so quickly, but there was something in his eyes that told me that it was not the case. He was struggling, but he had come to terms with the situation much easier than his Ishgardian counterparts.
> 
> It was not until the bloody banquet and the attempts he made to raise my spirits that I understood why he was always so merry. He saw what was underneath the snow, the cold and the ice and his eyes were faced forward to a future that not even I was able to see.
> 
> 'Old friend, what does snow become when it melts?' he asked me once.
> 
> I remember eyeing him in confusion before answering, 'It becomes water, obviously.'
> 
> How merrily he laughed and I began second-guessing myself even though I should not have. When he was finished, he told me this:
> 
> 'When snow melts, it becomes _spring_.'
> 
> I remember the surprise that I felt before it melded into understanding. _'A winter of their discontent'_ is what he used to describe the _others_ and not himself. He was never discontent with the situation; rather, he saw it as an opportunity.
> 
> Regardless, Haurchefant always saw what was underneath the snow and ice.
> 
> And, at that moment, I swore I saw a flower bloom in the distance.

**—Her Unending Journey, an unlisted entry**


	24. Pleasure (Aymeric/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. Edmont de Fortemps, Stryder Vitali and Rayne 'Echoes' Cowen

"I have returned successful!"

Aymeric peered up from where he was sitting in the den of the Fortemps manor. Not only he, but Lord Edmont, Lord Stryder and Master Echoes besides. They all stared at the woman curiously as she entered the room to join them. She was outfitted with her lance and in her Ishgardian wear, though it was slightly dirtied to indicate a struggle.

Despite this, the smile that she had on her face was triumphant, a face of pride in whatever it was that she accomplished.

"Welcome home, Ia," her brother, Stryder, greeted her as he sipped from his coffee. His cheerful nonchalance caught the lord commander off-guard, but he supposed it couldn't be helped. After all, he had _grown up_ with the woman and was exposed to her eccentric nature her entire life.

The pair of amethyst eyes met and Aria's brow raised in mild surprise. "Oh, dear brother, you are here!"

"Indeed, I am," he answered with a laugh. "You seem to be in an awfully good mood. I take it that you had a good outing?"

With the way her lips curled into a grin, the answer to the question was obvious. Like a child that had emerged victorious in a game, she had placed her hands on either side of her waist and began laughing theatrically.

"Aye, dear brother!" she exclaimed then peered over her shoulder towards the manservants that were on standby near the wall.

In response, they had nodded and left the room for but a moment before returning with rather large sacks in their arms of varying sizes. Though, with the largest ones, the sound of jingles could be heard akin to the sound of coins ringing against each other. Soon enough, there was a pile of around twenty large sacks bunched together and five medium sacks that didn't appear to be nearly as heavy to carry.

"What is all this then?" Lord Edmont asked.

Echoes was the first to step forward to inspect the sacks, glancing towards his charge for permission beforehand. Once he peered inside one of the large sacks, he saw an exorbitant amount of gil piled on top of each other.

"Ah, it would seem my lady has returned from a treasure hunt," the man explained, revealing the contents to everyone else.

As the gentlemen expressed their complete shock, the woman cheered loudly with approval, raising her hands to the ceiling as if she was the ring leader in a circus presenting the next act.

"Ta-da! That is correct! This is the haul from my latest excursion with my raiding party!"

While Aymeric and Lord Edmont could only gape at the woman, Stryder inclined his head in curiosity.

"What is the total, Sister?" he asked.  
Aria tilted her head innocently. "Around seven hundred and fifty thousand, if you are to include the leather, powder, materia and clusters in the smaller bags."  
Stryder hummed in response, markedly impressed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And what would you like for me to do with the contents? Put it in your account?"  
Aria waggled her finger in front of her brother before she pointed at Aymeric. "I want to donate the resources to the Restoration effort!"

Aymeric almost fainted at the woman's words and immediately stood to cross the space between the two. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she only continued to smile pleasantly towards him.

"My love, are you sure about this?" he asked. "'Tis quite generous of you and by no means am I undermining your efforts whatsoever, but the amount you are wishing to donate is almost _too_ generous! Would you not wish to withhold some in the case of a financial crisis?"

Aria blinked, tilting her head in confusion. "...But I have enough money." Aria's brows crinkled worriedly before her gaze drifted to Stryder's. "That is...I _do_ have enough money, correct?"

Stryder nodded reassuringly. "Indeed, Sister. Your account remains healthy, the sum of your assets totaling around twenty-three million gil."

From the corner of his eye, Stryder was able to see Aymeric and Lord Edmont almost double over at the number, but his sister looked rather unsatisfied.

"Oh, I knew I forgot to mention something," she stated as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I had withdrawn around five hundred thousand gil the other night so I may give some additional funding to the Doman Enclave. Kozakura was worried that they would be under the budget this month, so I sent an anonymous donation."

Echoes shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Were you, at least, present to see her reaction, my lady?"

Aria only winked in his direction before they laughed merrily and began organizing the haul. Aymeric, in turn, gave up at how laid back his love was as he returned to his original seat across from Stryder. The elder Vitali only chuckled softly as he took another sip of his coffee.

"How do you handle such a wily sister, Lord Stryder?" Aymeric grumbled in an uncharacteristically childish way that was still rather endearing.  
Stryder hummed. "Simple—I do not."  
Lord Edmont raised his brows. "But, Stryder—"  
Stryder smiled in his direction and shook his head. "I do not wish to deny her the experience, Father. She takes utmost pleasure in the adventure, oft dragging her raiding party along when she is of the mood. The treasures themselves obtained afterwards mean rather little."

Aymeric couldn't help, but pinch the bridge of his nose as a result of the oncoming headache he seemed to be obtaining.

"I had heard stories of Adventurers gaining riches beyond the fondest of dreams," he mused. "I never knew that such a thing was actually _true_ of Ia."  
"The reason for that is also simple," Stryder commented, a placid smile on his face though his eyes hinted something akin to haunted exhaustion.  
"And that is?"  
Stryder glanced towards Aymeric with a helpless shrug. "...She is blessed by the gods of fortune when it comes to drawing lots."

Echoes laughed as he approached them to return by the elder Vitali's side.

"Indeed, she is," the man chimed in. "After all, she had managed to win _your_ heart, Ser Aymeric."  
"What is THAT supposed to mean?!" the woman shouted from where she was.

Despite the ire of the Warrior of Light, the room was filled with pleasant warmth.


	25. Plead (Aymeric/WoL, Estinien)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired by this [Tumblr post](https://jukemaid.tumblr.com/post/184429679508/nozomikei-jukemaid-i-just-had-a-thought)

She was too light.. Too, _too_ light.

Estinien watched the entire scene unfold, destroying the flying magitek monstrosities so that she would be able to focus solely on the man before her. He didn’t know how Zenos managed to revive from the dead and, quite frankly at this point, he couldn’t be arsed.

After swiftly deflecting what would have been the man’s fatal blow on Aria, he quickly turned to throw the unconscious woman’s arm over his shoulder before he vaulted away. When he was a good distance away, he adjusted his hold of the Hyur so that he would be able to carry her on his back as he lept once more in search of the only person on the battlefield that he trusts with her life.

That’s when the dragoon had come to the realization. He knew the woman was light in comparison to how she appeared. The last time he took measure of her figure was when he had to give her a piggy-back ride back to the Borel estate because she was way too drunk to walk on her own after her heavy drinking at the Forgotten Knight. 

Yet, this was _nothing_ of the sort. She was light. _Way too light._ When he honed his senses, listening for a song that was distinctively hers, he heard nothing. No song, no cry; not even a whisper.

“Hey! Pull yourself together!” He attempted to call her to no avail.

With no response, the man growled and bounded across the battlefield of Ghimlyt Dark faster, faster—with renewed urgency and purpose.

“Aria!” her brother-in-arms shouted amidst the white noise.

Again, nothing.

Then, the dragoon spied sapphire within the desolate wasteland on the earth below and he adjusted his trajectory. He landed soundly at Aymeric’s side just as he was to engage in another battle to push the line established and the lord commander’s eyes widened at the sight of it.

“Estinien?! What are you—?”

The words died on Aymeric’s lips when he saw the person the vagabond carried on his back. The dragoon saw the way the man’s face paled, fear sparkling bright within those eyes likened to aquamarines despite the darkness of the battlefield.

“Save her, Aymeric!” Estinien pleaded, eyes wild with desperation.

A switch was flipped almost immediately and Aymeric was barking orders to conjurers and irregular units alike. The sight of it was enough for the dragoon and he began turning away after he had placed the woman on top of the stretcher they had brought to carry her on.

"Where are you going, Estinien?" Aymeric demanded when he noticed that the man was going to leave.

Estinien clenched his hands into fists. "I am going to do her part and establish the line."

Before Aymeric could say anything, Estinien vaulted high into the air and the atmosphere around him grew harsh, heavy and _dangerous_. While he knew it was risky to fall to temptation, Estinien was going to take the chance. He wasn't the only one to care for the Warrior of Light, but it seemed that he was the only one with the ability to turn the course of the battle. When he's done here, he'll move on. Right to the heart of Garlemald, for how dare they harm that which was important to him—that which he viewed as much of a best friend as he did Aymeric.

Those bastards won't see what's coming.


	26. Watch (Fray & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Level 80 DRK reference

Ever since that fateful day in Whitebrim, there was nothing that Fray could do but watch from within Aria's heart.

He did everything that he promised that he would do for her that day. When she could not cry, he shed tears for her deep within her heart for the pain of the losses she acquires. When she could not scream, he released wails from the deepest part of her soul, a shout that begs for succor from the deepest and darkest abyss.

Fray loved her. He knew that she knew that single fact. She knew that, if he deemed it was necessary, he would take the reins in order to spare her from shattering her own heart, from entirely giving up on this cruel, cruel world that only seeks to take, take, _take_ what it wills from her.

He remembers each and every face that she met in her journey. He remembers how she feels, how she reacts; the wishes she makes and the dreams she dreams of so innocently under the starry night sky. Sometimes, he will whisper from her heart a reminder, one that he knows is so important to say regardless of whether or not it's warranted:

> _"In your darkest hour, in the blackest night...think of me...and I will be with you."_

Whenever he would remind her, he could feel Aria smiling, the warmth returning and filling a void that was growing eerily wide. While the moments come and go, growing sparse in number due to her building confidence, the moments that she would experience such heavy lows became more...chaotic. Destructive. _Dangerous_.

Aria thought of him often when she was whisked away to the land of Norvrandt, to this reflective shard of the Source known as 'the First'. The Lightwardens were cruel, merciless, and the amount of blood she had shed for a world not their own was immeasurable.

This was her answer—the answer she had given him back in the wretched cold. Her heart was unwavering and unyielding and, Twelve forfend, she shone brilliantly as she stayed her course.

Almost _too_ brilliantly.

Even Fray realized too late and when he did, Aria was doubled over, on the ground of accursed Mt. Gulg, vomiting out what could only be described as white blood.

She was turning into one of them and all he could do...was watch.

He could only watch as Aria screamed in pain. He could only watch as she was consumed with desperation at the sight of her old friend. He could only watch as he was shot and collapsed to the ground.

He could only watch.

Just watch.

_Simply watch._

Amidst his own musings—a chaotic cacophony of pain, dread and loss—he hadn't realized that Aria had reawakened and was now atop a watch tower in the Crystarium. He sees her friend, the ghost that had been following her this entire time. He wanted to judge, but honestly, was he any different?

Then, he realized that he couldn't, for the moment that her fist met with the ghost's, she was filled with a burst of hope. _He_ was filled with a burst of hope. The same infectious sentiments bubbling within her chest that he had felt when she confronted him and when he says the words to her, words that were of a similar reminder to one that he gives, he couldn't help but believe.

So, he watched as she and hers entreated with Bismarck, trekked through the Tempest's depths and crossed through beautiful, beautiful Amaurot. He listened as another part of her cried out to this city, a deeper part recognizing the spiraling towers and high-reaching buildings.

Then, she came close. So, so close.

She managed to push herself all the way through the Final Days. He watched as the buildings came crashing down to simulate the horrors of what they experienced and he _cried_ for them. He _screamed_ for them. He _yearned_ for them.

 _"Closer,"_ he whispered when she encountered the first doom.  
 _"Just a bit more...!"_ he called to her at the second.  
 _"Right after this, then—!"_ upon seeing Therion.

Yet, right before her eyes, her allies were knocked aside one by one as if flies. She struggled, but took one step forward, then two. Then three. By the gods, she was still struggling against her fate even when she had collapsed onto the ground in her weakness. As she got lost in a haze within her mind. As she was about to turn.

But he could only watch.  
All he could do is watch.  
The only thing he could do is...

> **_SOD IT!_ **

Fray felt the burst of light and energy erupting from within, a dam that had opened its gates to release the rushing water. As she regained her strength, no thanks in part to the other her, he whispered to her once more:

_"In your darkest hour, in the blackest night...think of me...call on me..."_

The moment that she whispered his name, Fray felt himself pulled apart from the abyss, obtaining a rather impressive solidified shape in a manner of a simulacrum. She brought him out, she called his name, she granted another one of his selfish wishes.

He was done watching.


	27. Stay (Crystal Exarch | G'raha Tia/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **MAJOR 5.3 SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS. LIKE, THIS IS SUPER SPOILERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.**

_“I concede, I may have overexerted myself.”_

Aria peered down with wide eyes as the Exarch’s body was threateningly close to becoming encased in crystal, a desperation thrumming within her chest alongside panic and pain. 

_“Steady now and listen.”_

The buzzing only grew louder within her mind, for how could she stay steady and how could she just listen when he was about to be taken away from her? Were it not for the reassuring smile that he had given him, the self-same smile that she had seen as he was about to enter into slumber within the Crystal Tower, she would have thrown a fit—a frantic fit amidst fear and hurt.

_“We have won, my friend.”_

_And yet, I am to lose you a second time_ , is what the woman wanted to scream, to shout, for it certainly seemed to be the case. They say that victory cannot be won without sacrifices and, throughout the years, there are three that remained so hard-hitting within her heart; he was one of them.

_“So I hope you’ll forgive me this moment of selfishness. And...while I wouldn’t want you to feel obliged…”_

When Aria and the Exarch looked towards each other, a mutual and silent understanding of the emotions going through one another, it was at this that they reached out for each other’s hand. Aria didn’t know whether it was artificial comfort for him, being covered in crystal and all, but it did well to soothe the ache within her own heart. For she didn’t think she could go on with the way he looked at her and she knew she was doing the same to him.

_“Promise me you’ll take me on your next adventure. A journey. Together. That’s all I ask.”_

With these words, the woman couldn’t prevent the stream of tears flowing from her amethyst eyes. She wanted to be strong for him in this moment of weakness and vulnerability, but she couldn’t hold back this time. Not this time.

“You could have asked me earlier…!” she exclaimed through the tears with a smile. 

Her words certainly caught the man off guard, for he released a helpless chuckle in response, a memory of his youth emerging from when she said the exact same thing to him after he whined about her not taking him with her to Mor Dhona.

_“If I were to tell you that isn’t the end—that we will meet again—would you believe me?”_

As Aria allowed the gears to turn in her head, she finally understood the meaning behind his words, behind his nonchalance. It was so like him, she thought, to leave her so worried and hanging for so long. It was so like him...that she couldn’t help but nod helplessly in response as she reached out and presented him with the vessel he had fashioned for himself. The same vessel he was going to use as a test before he allowed the others to try it for themselves.

With a ‘thank you’ did he place his crystalline hand on top of hers, atop the vessel, with a broken voice and there was a spark that was shared between the two like-minded individuals, the two connected individuals bound together by the red string of fate.

When that was finished, the Hyuran woman watched the Miqo’te pull up his hood and struggle to his feet. All the while saying:

_“My friend. With you, my mind and memories shall travel to the ends of the world and beyond. But in this place shall my body stand immovable.”_

She watched as he stepped closer towards the throne before straightening his back to stand tall. She could only listen as he continued his words to her:

_“May it serve as an undying promise, not only to those who looked to me for leadership, but to any soul who has known despair, that hope is everlasting.”_

It was in these words that Aria slowly followed, raising up the vessel to his once more, and as it began to glow in attunement as he began the test, she felt warmth beginning to emanate from the vessel itself. The warmth of his soul growing slowly as he went on with the process, undoubtedly leaving behind a cold statue in his wake in light of his merge with the Tower—his price to pay.

Yet, he smiled.

He smiled as he, in the end, became nothing more than a crystallized husk of the Crystal Exarch, standing proud and tall before Xande’s seat of honor. He smiled as Aria did the same, for saying goodbye with a smile was what she had learned to do after all these years.

When he had become completely engulfed and she had heard the Scions’ footsteps approaching from behind, Aria allowed herself to feel the grief that she had held back as she brought the glowing vessel filled with his soul closer to her person. She allowed herself to embrace it as if her life depended on it as she fell to her knees to weep. Even when she knew her comrades were watching, she released the pitiful screams and wails that reverberated from her entire body as her figure shook. As the tears fell. As her heart was torn and mended and torn yet again.

Though, only half of her was wallowing in her grief.

Indeed, for the other was cheering from every corner of heart, mind and spirit.

 _Your dream came true, Raha…!_ It would cry out in such utter pride and joy. _You were the hero that you have always dreamt of being!_

With this part, she hoped and prayed that the theories held true. She trusted her bestest friend, her closest friend, with the words that he had given her. She will trust his hope…

...for he _is_ her hope.

❅ ❅ ❅

Upon the final hour of departure, Aria watched as her comrades underwent the same process that he had before his last breath. 

She waited and prayed to the Twelve that the theories would hold true. 

She prayed as she collected the vessels together and put them away in her bag. 

She prayed and she prayed as she took a deep breath…

...and crossed the portal to the Source.

❅ ❅ ❅

Aria was quick to rush Krile and Tataru into Dawn’s Respite. She was quick to lay out the vessels accordingly, corresponding to each one of her friends. It wasn’t at all too long until the soul and body began reaching out to one another, began attuning to one another, and returned that which belonged.

Alisaie was the first, followed by Thancred. Then, it was Y’shtola, Urianger and Alphinaud, each awakening and sitting up bit by bit. Aria was grateful, relieved and all manner of other emotions that she couldn’t put into exact words for there were no words that could describe just how thankful and blessed she was that the process was successful.

Then, Y’shtola bade her:

“...I doubt any of us will be fit to travel for some while. May we leave the rest to you?”

Aria stared at the woman, the woman that had first found her back when she had begun her adventuring days in Limsa Lominsa, and understood immediately what she had meant. Her eyes widened, baffled that the topic would even be brought up when they had only recently returned. It is only with Urianger’s reassurances that she allowed herself to do what she wanted immediately:

“The vessel beareth our comrade’s blood. With it in thy possession, the way will surely open before thee.”

So, the woman ran. Exhausted as she was, she ran all the way from Mor Dhona, forgetting that she had her chocobo and mounts alike, and just ran. Ran to the ferry that went between the edge of the lake to Syrcus Trench, ran from the landing towards the doors of the Crystal Tower.

As she ran, she heard the familiar ringing of rock landing on rock and when she peered over her shoulder to see what it was, she found the crystal—the constellation stone belonging to the seat of Azem, the Fourteenth member of the Convocation.

Aria remembered Hythlodeus’ words as she stepped towards the crystal to retrieve it, holding it close. She remembered him. She remembered Hades. She will continue to live to keep the promise, in memory of those that were lost and left behind.

With this in mind, she turned once more to the doors, presented the vessel and waited patiently as the ward diminished, unlocking the gates. The doors opened easily and she could feel the vessel pulsating warmth from her hand. Surely, his soul was crying out to his body, the body of this world’s version of himself. He was as eager as she was, that’s for certain.

Eager to greet him with a ‘good morning.’

❅ ❅ ❅

Some days later, the Scions were speaking amongst themselves on the balcony of Rowena’s House of Splendors. They noticed Aria and Krile’s return when the Lalafellin woman had released cries of exhaustion and made a beeline for the closest seat at the twins’ table. They saw the way Aria eyed her with immense gratitude and respect before turning to the others to greet them.

“By Mistress Krile’s exhausted state, may I assume that the ward hath been restored?” Urianger then asked.

Aria could only smile at him as she turned towards the catwalk leading to the open balcony, towards an approaching figure so shy and humble. She smiled at the man as he explained the success in restoring the ward to the Crystal Tower, once again locking it away so that its infinite energies can’t be misused for evil deeds. She watched and she smiled with immense pride, such immense pride.

“Said duty thus discharged, thou art free to go wheresoever thy fancy taketh thee,” Urianger then exclaimed with relief. “Upon which note—hast thou perchance come to a decision? The offer remaineth open.”

Aria turned to eagerly await the man’s answer, her eyes sparkling even against the glints of sunlight reflecting from the amethyst hue, and when he stammered over his words—completely and utterly unsure of himself for this briefest of moments—Aria’s smile widened as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Raha, really,” she interjected.

The Scions saw how her words affected the man, his ears perking up and his tail swaying restlessly behind him. Thus did he straighten his back, gathering his courage, and painted a smile over his own face.

“I accept,” G’raha Tia responded to Urianger’s inquiry earnestly. “Henceforth, I shall count myself a Scion of the Seventh Dawn. G’raha Tia, at your service.”

After his introduction, after he had descended the few steps to join them, the Scions watched as Aria could no longer help herself as she jumped towards him, wrapping her arms tight around his figure. Her cheeks were flushed a bright shade of red, matching his eyes, as the Miqo’te flustered, unsure of how to respond.

“I...am so glad,” Aria whispered quietly so only he could hear. “I am glad that you are here to stay.”

G’raha blinked in surprise before he smiled and returned her embrace. Indeed, he was here to stay—the place being right by the side of his inspiration. For wherever she chooses to go, fate is sure to follow. Hope is sure to follow.

His love is sure to follow.


	28. Bewildered (Crystal Exarch | G'raha Tia/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing major spoiler-y, but since I wrote this where the setting is just after the events of 5.3, I'll put the warning just in case.
> 
> **[Potential 5.3 spoilers here]**

Aria took G’raha’s hand—amethyst eyes meeting rubies—as she fell to her knees in front of where he sat. As her tears spilled, she allowed her chocolate locks to curtain over her face to mask the sadness that she wore before she rested her weary head on his lap.

In turn, the man looked upon her with worry, thankful that no one else was present within Seventh Heaven in this moment of vulnerability, as he reached towards her with his free hand to tilt her head.

“Ia,” he called in a gentle whisper. “What is it? What are you afraid of?”

The woman stared at him, sniffling and hiccuping softly, and allowed herself to chase after the warmth of his hand when he placed his palm against her cheek. Her heart was full, but it was also breaking; a fractured soul in an attempt of mending. G’raha saw this, saw everything that she was, just as he showed her everything that he is.

“I am afraid that this may all just be a dream,” she answered quietly. “I am afraid that, should I fall asleep tonight, you would no longer be here. That everything that had happened the last few days would be a well-written fantastical play one way or another.”

G’raha’s eyes widened ever so slightly, bewildered to the fact that she would worry over such things, before he smiled at her so reassuringly. With both hands, he wiped and rubbed her tear-stricken cheeks and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I am not going anywhere you are not,” G’raha replied. “This I promise, for my place now is always at your side.”

Aria couldn’t help, but stare at him skeptically. She let the words twirl and dance around in her mind before she nodded. While she was unsure of herself, she decided to put herself at peace by believing in him and she nuzzled her face into his lap. This prompted a chuckle from the man, who threaded his fingers through her hair with a fond smile.

“What say you, Aria? Shall we be off to bed?”

With a simple nod, Aria and G’raha both got to their feet to retire for the night as the man led her to his bedchambers. He held her hand the entire way and for the rest of the night, ensured that he held her close so she may listen to his beating heart.


	29. Grotesque (Fray & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **MAJOR 5.3 SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS BELOW. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

> _“You speak as if you were disappointed in me. Why? I am your enemy, and you mine. Our goals are in conflict, and we are fated to clash....You who have slaughtered my people. Who would tear down everything we have built.”_

She was growing unstable. Fray knew this.

It wasn’t at all fair that the damned Ascian was taking advantage of her weaknesses by showing her images of people that have come and gone, of what was and what could have been. He knew it would end up this way the moment that he saw the thaumaturge—the moment that he saw Papalymo at ‘Yda’s’ side again. 

The moment that she saw him, however, Fray felt the way Aria’s heart stuttered, a memory flashing before her very eyes of Baelsar’s Wall and the man that summoned despair and destruction incarnate into the mortal plane.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

Aria’s heart almost stopped at the sight of a familiar blonde Hyuran woman, of a Roegadyn woman with ash gray hair looking upon the Elezen astrologian with affection and adoration. A mentor and a friend that could have been.

When Aria reached out to Minfilia, her eyes widened when her hand phased through the image. Desperate to confirm, she attempted to reach out to Moenbryda. Fray felt her heart screaming out and the tears streaming through harder, far more intense and with much more pain. This was worse than what she went through back in Gyr Abania, back when she confronted Myste, and she was beginning to lose herself to the abyss.

As he screamed out to her—his voice left unheard in the process—he watched as she had to face the monsters with the faces of the Crystal Braves. Of the ones that had betrayed her when she was beginning to trust again. Flashes of the bloody banquet came into her mind’s eye and Fray screamed _with_ her. Screamed _for_ her.

Then, the worst had come when she saw the man that had rescued her from the fall.

The sight of Haurchefant was enough to cause the buzzing within her ears to intensify and the moment that Elidibus had disappeared into the void once more in order to reach the next point, Fray heard Aria scream from the top of her lungs, sets of “stops” over and over and over again spilling from her lips besides. The late lord appeared so _alive_ that it was impossible to tell that he was already gone, but Fray knew better. He knew that Aria knew better and yet she had collapsed to her knees and began pounding her fists against the ground. The bitter tears fell, they always did, for this was unkind.

Unkind, unfair, unreasonable.

 ** _Aria_** , Fray whispered. **_Aria, I am here._**  
 ** _Aria_** , Myste whispered. _**Aria, I am here.**_

Their voices reached her, for she began struggling to her feet again. Struggling and pushing on in this cruel trial, though she wanted to fall and curl up within herself. Though she wanted to go back in time and change the course of history, the pain so intense that she couldn’t bear to go on.

That is, until she saw the Thordan and the knights and _remembered_.

She remembered the anger that she had felt. She remembered the call for vengeance. She remembered her selfishness and stubbornness, of wanting to throw herself into the pyre if it meant she would get back at the ones that took from her, just as she would all else that dared to take anymore-

As she finished putting the monsters to the sword, Aria remembered...how _grotesque_ a person she had become once she was so blinded by her despair. She remembered the feeling of emerging from Azys Lla and losing her friend to rage’s grasp...and wanting to change.

“Fray,” she whispered.

Fray felt himself at her beck and call and, soon enough, he was standing at her side as a simulacrum of herself. He said nothing, for no words need be said when the feelings were there. Even as she had to fight against the monster wearing her lover’s appearance of sapphire and gold, even when she longed to reach out to the shade of Ysayle speaking with Hraesvalgr, even when she was forced to remember the pain of Nidhogg’s attacks when he possessed Estinien’s body.

She remembered. She felt. She pushed on.

Fray could hear her whispering to herself as he followed at her side throughout Amaurot. The sight of Lyse and Conrad was enough of a sign marking where the story will turn to next and whilst she held her breath, she remembered her path. Remembered why she continued with such conviction. It calmed her heart, it steadied her breath; it allowed her to use the power of the abyss to strengthen her.

When she finally reached the monster wearing a true monster’s skin, Aria remembered. It wasn’t that she was _afraid_ of Zenos yae Galvus—far from it, in fact. Rather, she was afraid of what he had _made_ of her, forcing her so far into the corner that she had made use of her Soul of the Summoner—the one crystal she attempts desperately to avoid using as much as possible—and unleashed Bahamut in a fiery rage that could have destroyed not just the Royal Menagerie, but all of Ala Mhigo’s castle had her brother not been with her.

Then, at last, Elidibus used Ardbert’s voice against her.

She hesitated a moment, but Fray was there. He reached out for her, placing a hand on hers and though there wasn’t any flesh to accompany the notion, he knew that Aria could feel it as if he had the warmth.

With a single tear shed a nod, Aria took to battle stance, as did he, and confronted the Ascian. A single wish emerged from her heart, one that he heard loud and clear, and it was a pleasant surprise to him that he could finally grant to her what she desired.

 ** _Let’s bring him back, aye?_** He said to her without words.

“Yes, let us,” she whispered in return.

Then, at last, they clashed against Elidibus.


	30. 14th (Hades & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **MAJOR 5.3 SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.**
> 
> Hades/WoL if you really want it to be lol

"Hades~! Hyth~!"

Hades blinked as he heard the familiar voice calling out to him and his friend at his side. A small shiver went up his spine at the way his name was called, but rather than annoyance shaping his visage like it would if it were anyone _else_ calling him, it was one of embarrassment masked in bitter aloofness as he refused to turn.

"Oh, look what we have here," Hythlodaeus called out in passing comment, his voice pleasant and filled with repressed excitement. "Welcome home."

At the sound of a woman's voice cheering and laughing alongside Hythlodaeus', Hades slowly turned his body around to meet with the inevitable. He knew there was no where for him to run, for it was as if the woman was a tracker who specifically honed her senses to find him on a moment's notice considering their history.

The moment that Hythlodaeus noticed the glint in Hades' eyes, he gave his friend the widest smirk before he turned towards the woman.

"Would you like to 'greet' our other compatriot here, my friend?" he asked, a sly grin slipping through the woman's blind spot and earning a glare from the Architect himself.

However, he hadn't the time to address that issue for the woman _—_ a creature a head shorter than himself with glistening amethyst eyes, wearing a crimson mask to which the black ink danced across the object like creeping vines along with similar soot robes unlike that of his own _—_ had jumped to the man with wide arms. Afraid that she may injure herself _—_ and give cause to his liability _—_ Hades caught her in his arms, steadying her besides.

"Would you kindly cease such childishness?!" Hades exclaimed, quite distraught.

The woman giggled, allowing her arms to hang off his neck as she was being held up in the air by the man due to their height difference.

"Hades!" the woman exclaimed. "Hades, I have returned!"

With an exasperated sigh, Hades scowled as he spoke.

"Yes, yes, I see that, truly I do. Now, will you _please_ steady yourself so we may speak properly, Azem?"

At the sound of the name, the woman now known as Azem leaned her head back to pout at Hades. While it didn't outwardly show, the man's stoic expression remaining, his heart was frantically beating within his chest.

"Why are you so mean to me?" Azem whined, letting go of the man to jump towards the other. "Hyth, listen to me! Hades is a bully!"

Hythlodaeus gave the woman a pat on her head before he glanced towards Hades with a teasingly accusatory expression.

"Is he now? Well, you could always do as you have and send the stars to surround his corporeal form and _—_ "

Remembering the last time the woman did that, Hades almost panicked and exclaimed in kind.

"If you dare do such a thing, I will refuse to speak with either of you!"

Both Hythlodaeus and Azem gasp theatrically, holding each other close in feigned doubt and fear. Certainly, the two could pass in theatrics and be placed on the same level of passion as Lahabrea for all the man could care.

"You would not dare...!" Hythlodaeus jested.

Breaking character, Azem burst into laughter, letting go of Hythlodaeus to wrap her arms around her stomach. Waving a hand up, she marked her surrender as Hades folded his arms across his chest in wait. When she was finished, the woman straightened and turned to the Architect once more.

"I have missed you," she stated, then turned to glance towards Hythlodaeus. "The both of you. My two dearest friends."

As Hythlodaeus chuckled and proceeded to give the woman another head pat, Hades sighed and relaxed his posture.

"Well, if that is the case, then you can recount your tale in a way that befits a member of the Convocation as we nourish ourselves. Come, Azem, the two of us have made reservations at your favorite restaurant knowing you would be returning this day from your work."

Azem blinked, appearing stunned for a brief moment before she turned towards Hythlodaeus. With the way the man smiled and nodded his head, she knew that it wasn't a jest of any sort. So, in turn, she smiled and nodded in agreement.

However, before they made their way, the woman bounced on her heels to indicate she had remembered something before she waved to the two.

"I have a present for the both of you," she announced.

The two gentlemen looked towards each other curiously before eyeing the woman once more. With a playful wink, the woman lifted a finger to her lips before she raised her hand in the air to snap her fingers. When that had occurred, two stars seemed to fall from the heavens above in front of the men.

"For Hyth, a crystal teardrop from the northern lands," she explained.

In front of Hythlodaeus did a glass jar manifest and within the center hovered a crystalline teardrop the size of his finger, void of any impurities and was enough to invoke sparkles in the man's eyes. When Azem was satisfied with his response, her eyes darted towards Hades.

"And for Hades, a rose that blooms once a blue moon, frozen in time by the magicks of a mage I encountered along my travels."

When the light from the star had dimmed and Hades lifted a hand to cup the object, a corked jar half the size of his hand was given form. Within it was a beautiful crimson flower with emerald leaves in stasis, as if it was stuck in a flourished state and will remain so until the end of time itself; until the end of the world itself.

With a smile, Hythlodaeus turned to Azem.

"Thank you, my friend, it is a magnificent gift _—_ the perfect catalyst for my arcane experiments."

Azem nodded at him, then slowly stepped towards Hades. The man turned to her with a soft smile on his lips and was about to thank her before she shook her head.

"If you say the title of my office, I will take the gift back. _Call me by my real name._ "

Hades blinked in confusion before he released soft laughter.

"My deepest gratitude _—_ "

* * *

Aria woke up to the sensation of a gentle breeze brushing against her skin. She stirred, blinking her eyes quickly once she regained the sensation in her limbs, to accustom herself to the brightness of light once more.

As she sat up from her bed in her bedchambers in Ishgard, back in Fortemps manor, soft winds _—_ although cold _—_ blew inwards. It was enough to cause the curtains to sway back and forth and enough a cause to get her out of bed to close the windows.

Before she could, a small thud came from the corner and from her vanity did two objects fall onto the carpeted floor:

A corked vial with a rose eternally blooming within and an earring fashioned to accommodate a teardrop crystal. 

With a sense of urgency, the woman closed the window, latching it properly before she hurried to the objects and picked them from the ground. She didn't know why she had such heavy sentiments weighing in her heart at the sight of it, having already forgotten what she had dreamt of, but she held her two heirlooms close.

For a moment's pass, she allowed herself to weep.


	31. Crux (Fray & WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on level 30 Dark Knight quest, "Our End."

The death was sudden, as were all of her losses. She knew this, accepted this, but it didn’t make the ache of the pain hurt any less.

“‘ _Tis wrong to withdraw into yourself, Ia_ ,” her brother, Stryder, would say to her.

_I know this. I know all of this._

_I know this…_

Aria’s wanderings increased in number, became more sporadic and increased in length each time. She wondered if it was too late to escape from her fate, to find a way to make manifest the hypothetical bridge for her to jump to end it all. For what reason is there for her to continue fighting where the conjury she had studied had failed her, where the arcane magicks of her summonings only destroy, of where the power of wyrms in her lance only sing her losses in a seemingly everlasting song.

“Why did you do that, Haurche…” she whispered as she peered up to the grey skies above.

As the snow fell gently in a steady dance, a single teardrop fell from her eyes, covered by chocolate locks. Her heart thrummed within her chest, feeling as if it would explode at any moment. She would have fallen for it, truly she would have…

The sound of grunts and hisses broke her from her reverie and when the woman shifted her head to see where it had come from, she hadn’t realized that she had wandered towards the Brume. 

Though, what mostly caught her eye was the sight of two Temple Knights mumbling to themselves in irritation, in anxiety, as they carried a body of another clad in dark blues and raven blacks. She watched in disgust from behind the shadows, watching as they abandoned the figure before running off.

Unable to help herself, Aria slowly approached the hunched figure, though she barely had any hope considering how they held themself as they sat. When she reached the figure and knelt before them, she attempted to reach out to her Soul of the White Mage. 

However, in her mind flashed the all too fresh scene, the bitter memory recently acquired of her failure. A flash of pain engulfed her and the hesitance prevented her from resonating with the crystal, distracting her enough that she didn’t notice the dark aether emanating from the figure’s hand. Didn’t notice the way that the dark aether had subsequently engulfed her.

_...Is this it? Is this all that awaits?_

A voice echoed within her mind, one that she recognized and didn’t at the same time.

_No...No more. Enough…_

As she listened to the voice, she felt her energies beginning to drain. The sensation of her anima being siphoned from her body was unnatural, forceful, and splashed her with cold foreboding. It brought fear, enough so that she closed her eyes to whatever would come next.

_Open your eyes. Look. Do you see now? Do you see?_

“No...No, I do not…” the woman whispered.

_Aria… Aria!_

When the storm of dizzying waves passed, Aria allowed herself to reconnect with her senses and as she focused her sights away from the darkness, she found the figure that was hunched over peering down to her with silver eyes—the same color as the hair of the man that she had recently lost…

The figure straightened, appearing relieved that she had finally gathered herself. It was only at this moment that Aria realized she had collapsed but before she could say a word, the person that helped her spoke.

“...I’ve been waiting for you to open your eyes,” they said, a deep voice that identified the knight as a male. “You all right? You were moaning in your sleep and sweating buckets besides.”

Aria’s eyes widened. She had heard those words before, though she didn’t remember where. It was as if she was searching through the fog for an answer, one that warmed her body and jostled it to attention at the same time. Unable to identify it, she sighed and stood to her feet to address the man properly.

“Name’s Fray, by the way,” he continued. “And no, I’m not a heretic. Try convincing a Temple Knight drunk on authority of that, eh? Shame the pompous arse got the better of me.”

Aria blinked in slight surprise and couldn’t help but giggle at the manner to which he described it. She didn’t want to find jest in it, especially since a friend of hers is the lord commander of said Temple Knights, but it _was_ amusing albeit in a twisted way.

“But how about _you_? You touched it, yes? That couldn’t have felt good.”

The woman tilted her head towards Fray, unsure of what it was that he meant, but she described what had happened, what she felt and didn’t forget to include the pain.

“A voice, eh? And a rather distressed one besides…”

Before either of them could continue the conversation further, the sound of a voice crying out for succor called out for help. Like a primitive instinct, Aria turned to rush towards it, but Fray had unsheathed his weapon and barred her path. With a gasp, she turned to find stern and urgent eyes that wanted nothing but for her to listen. To _listen_.

“Not so fast,” he hissed. “We need to talk about what’s happening to you—what’s growing within you, before you get carried away.”

Aria stared at Fray, who returned her look with equal intensity.

“There’s a darkness within us all—nothing dangerous, mind. In fact, it’s quite healthy. But the crystal changes you—gives you the power to channel it. Do it without proper training, however, and...well...it might hurt.”

The sight of the man’s glowing eyes brought her to attention, sobered her negative thoughts and buried them within, for there was something different about this man and what he brought before her. Somewhere, in the back of her head, she knew what was coming and what would be expected of her. She knew what it would take and what was needed.

Moreover, she wanted to know more about the voice that called out to her.

“So go ahead—ask me to teach you. Ask me to instruct you in the ways of the dark knights, and I will.”

Aria knew that the offer was too quick, too convenient. Yet, the genuinity of his offer, of his tone, of just *him* hinted no malice. So, as she gazed upon those silver eyes and found only the intention to help, she knew she was at a crossroads, a crux of her life. With everything going on, she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

 _If this is to be our end, then so be it,_ she thought to herself.

Then, she gave him her answer.


	32. Sway (Aymeric/WoL)

_She danced with grace that could have fooled anyone._

_She sang ballads that weaved stories within people’s minds._

_The Heart’s Beat._

_The Song Upon the Wind._

_Yet, she knew not what she was doing to the people._

* * *

Aymeric stared at the Warrior’s back on the eve of the battle at Ghimlyt Dark. He admired how straight it was, how confident it was, and wondered how in the world his lover managed to acquire such a stalwart soul; for these kinds of individuals were difficult to find, one in perhaps a hundred thousand.

The lord commander reflected on all that Aria had done for him and his people. He remembered the tears that escaped her eyes, the blood that she had said and the promises that she had kept. He remembered how fearless she was when she accepted the power of Hraesvelgr’s Eye so she may do battle with Nidhogg’s shade. He remembered the relief on her face upon seeing Estinien’s unconscious—but breathing—state.

Then, he remembered the confession she had made to him when he had asked her how she could be so brave.

> _“Fearless? Nay, Aymeric. I was terrified. However, what was more frightening was the prospect of losing yet another person I call ‘friend’.”_

As the words echoed within his mind, Aymeric noticed the other nation leaders peer towards the Warrior. Their expressions mirrored his own in that they were certain of what must be done, but remained hesitant due to the losses that will be inflicted because of this war. They were afraid. They all were.

Afraid of the consequences.

The figure of the Warrior’s guard approached, a Midlander of wine red hair and heterochromatic eyes the colors of night and day. When the woman shifted her head to address the man, Aymeric’s eyes widened when he saw the woman’s expression, one of anxiety and worry befitting the small shoulders that bear the weight of the world.

In this moment, Aymeric watched as the woman’s resolve grew right before his eyes as she addressed the man. He watched as she remembered the reason why she continued to fight and the hesitancy dissipated like smoke.

There, he saw that she was absolutely _beautiful_.

Her ability to rise above circumstance, to hold on to hope, was a gift in its own right. The ability to sway the masses away from despair, to continue working to actualize the dream of a better tomorrow, to pass on the torch when all seems lost.

The song upon the wind.

His heart’s beat.

The star’s heartbeat.

And she knew not what she does for its people.


	33. Muster (WoL)

She had failed them. Completely and utterly failed them.

She had only recently gotten acquainted with the Resistance fighters of Rhalgr’s Reach. 

She was spared the initial chaos of the ambush only to be greeted to the sight of death and despair when she saw bodies strewn about. The anger on Lyse’s face, the blood pouring out from Y’shtola’s body and her inability to rise up once more to face the Garlean hunter.

There were young bloods. There were veteran freedom fighters.  
There were dreamers. There were leaders.

She had failed them. Completely and utterly failed them.

Doma was to be her clemency. It was supposed to not only reignite the fire burning in the hearts of the subjugated people, but also to fuel the passions within her soul. To remind her. To remind her.

_To bloody remind her!_

Once more, she was there, lying in pain and weakness before the man that shattered the confidence she had built for herself. Laying low the validation of her skills and talents in this new land with a single swing. Destroying the strength that she had mustered over the few weeks she had left Eorzea.

She was angry. Oh, so angry.

As she gazed upon the horizon, the sun rose in a beautiful painted canvas of gold, indigo, tangerine and rouge. It was as if the curtain was rising to meet with the new dawn, to meet with the new future that not only she, but everyone else wished to create for themselves.

This, in itself, was _beautiful_.

As she meditated within herself to muster the courage to face her fears—to face the monster of a man that had taken so, so much for such unacceptable reasons—she remembered that she wasn’t alone. So, when she turned back to see the faces of her comrades, of the Alliance leaders, of warriors yearning to take back what was rightfully theirs, they saw the embodiment of hope incarnate in all her grace and splendor.

In that moment, those around the Warrior found they could muster the strength to fight this fight.


	34. Clinch (OCs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character-centric, probably doesn't make sense and isn't interesting but I wanted to convey how Stryder (Aria's older brother) feels even if it's just a little bit.

> _“How must it feel having such a talented younger sister and you are so...worthless.”_

It wasn’t the first time that Stryder had heard such a statement thrown his way. Although he was the eldest of the Vitali siblings, he was always perceived as living in his sister’s shadow. With her talents spread across the seventeen soul crystals she bears—both Disciple of War and Magic alike—anyone would fall into the easy trap of comparing the siblings together.

Stryder wouldn’t deny the envy he felt towards Aria as they were growing up. It was true that their mother had paid more attention to his sister because of her early blooming in arcane magicks, but he understood the rationale behind it. After all, there is power that could easily go out of control if the talents aren’t honed, aren’t properly cultivated and left wild and rampant.

However, now that he’s had many years of life on his belt and has taken responsibility as head of their family’s name, he’s matured. He’s learned the reason why his younger sibling is so desperate to learn the martial arts across the entire star, for the role she had assumed with nary a choice was one that she shouldn’t have had to embrace in the first place. After all that they’ve experienced, there was even a time where he questioned what they had done to deserve such responsibilities, such pressure, such pain.

Such a sentiment was only exacerbated when he was witness to the way his sister had changed after Haurchefant had passed; the first person Ishgardian that he had ever learned to trust.

Stryder remembered the change in his sister, the way her hope was snuffed out only to be replaced by a burning desire for vengeance that would have all consumed her. In fact, it almost did when she allowed herself to be baptized in the dark abyss of the Dark Knights and pulled nearly too much for her to come back from.

The elder Vitali knew, in the moment he realized what was going on, that he was at a crossroads. He had to make a decision; to be one of two versions of the elder brother that Aria needed—Aria, not the Warrior of Light.

It was a simple answer, really. One that he didn’t need too long to think.

He remembered the night he approached their grandfather, Naivont de Lukos, with his sister. How they both discussed the matter prior and came to a similar conclusion and how their grandsires turned them down. Harshly.

> _“An inept whelp such as you? Take the family name? Are you of the right mind?”_

Stryder knew this mentality was to be expected, but he didn’t prepare for hell to be let loose from his sister’s mouth. It had been some time since he had heard the roguish accent from her; their late mother had beat it into them to speak with more clarity in their intonation. She was fire in all her grace and had given him something that he felt he had lost along the way: hope.

“How dare ya speak to Stryder like that!” Aria had shouted without reservation. “If ya swids think ya could stabble on my brother like that, ya better off stubblin’ and skulkin’ back into the dark! _Seventh hell take all of ya!_ ”

Aria then had grabbed him by the hand and dragged him all the way back to Fortemps manor to petition their surrogate father. Stryder remembered the passion she showed, the tears that escaped her eyes as she felt so deeply for her failure of a brother and how angry she was when he had said such a thing to her.

“You are not a failure!” she exclaimed. “You are Stryder Vitali. You are still a trueborn son of the Lukos family. You gave me faith when I could not bear to go on and you pushed me to be a better person. How many times must I tell you this before you realize that _I would not be here if you were not by my side?”_

The man’s eyes widened and he was taken back to the early days of their childhood. How his sister would rush to him when she was being bullied by the Lominsan children, when she would ask for advice in training, when she had accomplished a new feat and wanted to share it with him. In each moment, he heard her call his name with such love, with such respect and he began wondering why he had even contrived to doubt himself.

So, he turned to their father with determined eyes and a straight back.

“Father, allow me to become the heir to the Lukos name,” he insisted to Edmont. “Allow me the opportunity to support my sister in the ways only I could.”

Stryder remembered the way Edmont smiled so warmly at him, the same way that their birth father had smiled at him all those years ago.

“I have been waiting, my son,” Edmont answered.

From then on, he clinched the title and did exactly as he said he would. He supported his sister the best he could from his place. Whenever she would return to Ishgard for respite, he would always visit her at the Fortemps manor.

(He dared not urge her to move in with him at the Lukos estate. Ever since she had lashed out at their grandsire, the relations between the two had been awkward at best and volatile at worst.)

Whenever he did, she would welcome him in the same way she always had: with the brightest smile and the biggest heart.

He has never regretted his decision. 


	35. Matter of Fact (Aymeric/WoL)

When Aymeric and the others had found Aria at the Royal Menagerie after her victory against Zenos, the aetherial pressure emanating from her was far beyond what they had seen of her so far. Even Stryder and Echoes, normally flanking the Warrior’s blindspots at all times, stood a fair distance away from where the woman was.

As they bore witness to the sight of her back, Aymeric was able to see the manifestation of a crystal blue wyrm, a clear summoning of the demi form of the dreaded Bahamut that was unleashed on Cartenaeu five years past. Waves upon waves of raw energy and strength emanated from both entities and the lord commander somehow knew that Aria wasn’t wasting any movement—for each movement she made was a silent command and so attuned was she to the arcane strengths she kept locked away at all times. It was as if the summon was an extension of herself, for where she faced, so did the creature and for where she aimed, the summon directed its attacks.

So strong were they that no one dared approach.

When the woman peered over her shoulder towards her brother, the others were able to see how the amethyst of her eyes was overrun by a cerulean blue. It glowed beneath the shadow of her bangs and it yet revealed nothing but an empty void filled with nothing but cold, calculating logic and rationale.

“It is done,” the Warrior would then say, her voice so concise and matter of fact that Aymeric was skeptical as to whether or not it was his lover to begin with. Halone blessed Stryder, who had rushed to her side upon her words and taken her into his embrace.

As he gently stroked the back of her head, the aetherial dragon dissipated to nothingness once more and the heaviness of the atmosphere around them became lighter. The signal was the manner to which Echoes approached then, as sensitive he was to these environmental changes, and only then did Aymeric deign to run towards the woman.

When he approached, he found that the siblings had each other in their embrace, though the youngest was leaning more towards the eldest for support. Aria’s eyes were wide and frantic, her breathing short and quick as the beginnings of hyperventilation were coming through.

As the woman shook, Echoes procured a vial with a magenta liquid within that the lord commander knew was a hi-ether potion. He uncorked it and slowly pressed the opening to the woman’s mouth and angled it once he found that she was ready. Slowly and surely, the company watched her consume the contents to the last drop and ended with her hacking furiously.

When she had finished, she shifted her head to hide her expression against her brother’s chest. The woman withdrew into herself, attempting to curl her body closer and closer in a fain attempt to hide from the entire world.

Aymeric didn’t understand it and when he wanted to reach out to offer his support, the Hyuran monk reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Not now,” Echoes urged, his eyes of crimson and azure offering a dark glint.

Aymeric frowned sadly, helplessly, as he relaxed his posture to continue watching at the siblings from a safe distance.

“Is she…?” he asked.

Echoes shook his head. “She is afraid, Ser Aymeric. Afraid of the monster that a monster had made of her. She had nary a choice but to tap into her inner strength, but the lingering consequences are akin to the touch of madness.”

Aymeric’s eyes widened, her body whipping towards Aria’s attendant.

“Then, she is—!”

Echoes raised a hand to botch catch his attention and silence him as he shook his head.

“Fortune would have it that she was not attuned to the shade of the Dreadwyrm overlong. If she had pushed herself overmuch, she surely would have been anointed by the whispers of draconic rancor not unlike that of Nidhogg’s fury. The Twelve were merciful this day.”

Aymeric shifted his gaze towards Aria and found the small figure shaking to her core. The sight was the polar opposite to the indifference that she had earlier displayed before being taken into her brother’s embrace—as if she enjoyed the prospect of dueling to the death, of dancing along the edge of insanity with the deranged prince.

It was Aria, but it wasn’t; a side of her sealed away within a crystal barely touched. Whatever that had happened resonated with her so deeply that it drove her to a corner. A corner by which she felt she had no other choice but to forcefully push her way through in order to escape before she was chained down and held hostage by oblivion.

For the first time since meeting her, Aymeric didn’t know what to do.


	36. Treason (WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Free prompt for extra credit :)

She has known fear.

She has known heartache.

She has known what it’s like to be thrown in harm’s way.

Yet, as the villains clad in sapphire marched her towards the banquet hall and tossed her to the ground like an animal, thousands upon thousands of thoughts rushed through her mind.

Betrayal.

Slander.

Treason.

How long ago has it been since she felt such sentiments? Ah, it was when the person she thought she would spend her forever with had tricked her. When that person had served her mother’s life to the Garleans on a silver platter.

It was hot, her chest burning with indignation.

It was cold, her body numbed to the bone.

The darkness within her heart snarled at her, clawed at her, and commanded her to offer the reins.

> _**“Succumb to the anger and all will be well!”** _

Yet, she chose not to. She kept wearing her heart on her sleeve, speaking out against the injustices. She continued to fight for the people that spoke cruelly against her and loved them all the same.

In this treason, she learned anger.

But she will not let the anger take hold of her.


	37. Nonagenarian (WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **nonagenarian** [non-uh-juh-nair-ee-uhn, noh-nuh-]:  
>  _adjective_  
>  "of the age of 90 years, or between 90 and 100 years old"

Aria stood from where she was kneeling and wiped the sweat pouring down from her forehead and her temples. As the sun beat down in its warmth and splendor, she admired the work that she had put in the form of a young peach blossom sapling in the heart of Gridania. More specifically, just outside of Bentbranch Meadows where a memorial plaque was placed for both of her late parents.

The winds around her swirled with approval, as if the elementals were paying their own respects to the people that the Warrior had lost, and she was humbled. She was quick to clap her hands together to offer a prayer for her sires—in the memory of what was and what could have been.

In another world and another time—in a completely alternate universe—Aria knew that there had to be a version of her that was happy and content. Her parents were still alive, her brother still smiled from the bottom of his heart and she would be teaching new green-eyed recruits by the guildmaster’s side at the Arcanist’s Guild. She had faith that such a timeline would exist and she prayed for them; prayed that they would be happy and all would be well.

Yet, for the her that was here, this was all that she could offer: a small granite slab with their names engraved on a glossy surface, a bouquet of Nymeia lilies and crimson roses and a newly planted sapling of a tree that would provide an emerald haven once fully grown. She needn’t worry about keeping the grove safe, for the brushes of aether upon her skin was an assurance enough; one where the spirits of the forests promised to watch over them as they watched over her, a child of the land.

While she had her reservations about whether she would have the longevity for it, she prayed for the day that she would be able to visit this sanctuary with a family of her own. That even should her age reach triple digits, that even should she long pass—be buried in the ground and have nothing but faith that the future generations carrying her blood will remember this place—that it will be remembered.

She pleaded with the tree to grow tall, proud and strong. To lay claim to this small piece of land and place its mark so that her parents will not be forgotten. That she will not be forgotten. That _all_ should not be forgotten.

When she was finished with her vigil, Aria gathered her belongings and turned away with a pleasant smile.

She did not notice the two ghostly images of a man with chocolate brown hair and a woman of amethyst eyes beaming proudly at her person.

**Author's Note:**

> I've lived in the [Book Club](https://discord.gg/fh4dRgC) for a while and they're pretty cool people. It's open to readers and writers like, so feel free to join! :)


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